Gemotions

“I'm going to enter the photography contest, Dad,” Ethan announced, holding up his phone. He had been taking pictures of the local landscape, following his father’s footsteps. His father’s jaw was a tight line, the corners of his mouth pulled down.

He walked over to the desk where he stored his photography equipment. The cameras and lenses were his pride and joy, tools he had honed his craft with over many years. He felt a surge of possessiveness. He glanced at his son’s phone, and saw the familiar terrain. He couldn’t bring himself to say something supportive. He just mumbled something about “good luck,” his voice flat. He refused to give his blessing.