My mother in-law has a bowl of yellowed tattered photographs. I love this bowl. I love looking through it and seeing the people now considered my family when I didn't know them like I do today.
I see a woman who lavished her children with love...dressing in costumes, Friday night camp outs in the living room, reptiles in the tub.
I see a clan of brothers dressed in knee socks, hair cut in the shape of a bowl, those polo shirts with the alligator patch on the shoulder.
I see my husband as a baby...a big headed little wide eyed peach. When I rummage farther in the bowl I see my Brendan growing. A little lion cub on Halloween, a superhero on a Tuesday, a cowboy any day of the week.
I see a little boy, so intensely concentrating on his Lego's, the golden glow from a desk lamp highlighting his white blond hair.
For me, there are albums of old pictures. I love to see the Polaroids, the flimsy half blurry pictures of times I can't bring back...giggles I can't hear...games I forgot how to play.
My sister and I are there swimming daily in Lake Champlain, me with a pig nose made by chubby fingers out of pink construction paper-my hair a ratty tangled mess. I see me on the only pony I've ever owned...the kind made of plastic and springs...and his name was Blackie...he rocked me gently, but I ran him hard. Oh, and me in my Underoos...I loved my Underoos...I was Wonderwoman...I was Barbie.
I can see myself change through those photos...a little different with each passing year.
I think of how far Brendan and I have come from then til now. There is still a cowboy hat (no, correction...it's an Indiana Jones hat) and it he wears it every Halloween. Thankfully the knee socks and bowl haircut have left us, now replaced by a responsible suit and tie, and salt & pepper hair-growing more salty every day. Superhero underwear has been traded for a ridiculous pair of Winnie the Poo boxers...I'm still trying to hide them where he can't find them.
There is still that intensity when he concentrates. I love that look. It shows his passion for anything. It's why I married him.
Walgreen's (yes...I said Walgreen's) cotton undies are less "chic" than my beloved Underoos but much more cost efficient in the convenient 3 pack available for $6.99. I still believe I am Wonderwoman...Barbie can suck it (that anorexic, big-boobed bitch). The pig nose has been replaced by "my" nose...I'm still deciding which is better suited to my face. Blackie...my beloved Blackie...I don't remember what ever happened to him. Maybe we sold him to a farm where he could run free and rock wild and have little plastic Blackie babies...maybe he's in Barbie's dog food. I miss ya buddy.
I think that I have changed more than Brendan...I somehow lost something on my way up til now. He still has his childlike imagination...me...I can't imagine where mine went. But I like to "imagine" me not doing the dishes tonight!
Those photos that our parents took remind us...of how we used to be..what we were...who we were...that we were loved. I love looking at those pictures...and seeing us today. The same but different. I imagine that somehow we were meant for each other...the little us...cowboy and cowgirl...lion cub and piglet...a stupid haircut and a ratty mess...now all grown up and intermingled...now...the Indiana Jones loving Husband and the Barbie hating Wife...
That's all for now,
Brandi
No comments:
Post a Comment