PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
To Harold, the art installation to which his college coed daughter had dragged him looked for all the world like an alien invasion in progress. Long mesh funnels reached knuckle by knuckle down from a honeycombed membrane. He felt ill at ease, vaguely threatened.
“Well? Whadayathink?” asked Beth, gesturing broadly at the exhibit, his own little Vanna White.
“I think,” said Harold, “that it evokes… ethereal bamboo.”
“Ethereal bamboo…” Beth echoed. Then, “I love you, Dad.”
Harold beamed, giving silent thanks for one lesson he’d learned early in his relationship with her mother: respect what she adores.