Tackling taxes

In early family albums,  my mother included pictures of my father, sitting at a desk, pouring over tax information. So in keeping with tradition, this photo was taken to mark occasion of the very first time I did my taxes myself.

This is the time of year I dread. It has been a long-standing tradition that I feel a particularly uncomfortable combination of emotions-gratitude but also guilt and embarrassment. Yes, tax season is not a good time for me.
Every year since I first slipped off the list of dependents on my parents' tax forms, I have roped my father into doing my taxes. Typically my only part in the process is just sticking the postage stamps on the envelopes to mail my forms. My father's work was always very much appreciated but as I grew older I began to feel slightly ashamed of myself for not relieving him of filing taxes that were not his own. The least I could do, I would think, was ask to see what he did with all those forms so I could take on this responsibility. But I never did; until now.
This year, my parents spent a long weekend in Florida and I seized the chance to exercise some self-reliance and file my taxes myself.
The trouble is, my father makes this look so easy. He seems to be able interpret W2 forms and complete EZ 1040 forms with one eye closed and one hand tied behind his back. I was navigating with both pairs of hands and eyes and still became lost in the sea of government lingo and financial calculations.
A whole day slipped by while I studied the EZ 1040 handbooks, state tax handbooks, IRS website pages but at the end,  I had completed tax forms.
I wish I could say I stayed the course and never even reached out to my father for help but that would be a lie. I sent a number of e-mails to him, as he vacationed in sunny, warm, tropical Florida. He didn't reply back a whole lot. Perhaps my father also saw this as a key opportunity for me to grow up.