What’s your favorite picture of yourself?
I can’t say that I’ve given this one much thought. The one photo that came to mind, I couldn’t find. So I started sifting through a box of old photos and picked a few. These pictures have less to with how I look in them, and more to do with how I feel in them. The memories they evoke. What I am surrounded by. These have been scanned into the computer so excuse their old school fuzziness.
Home. I’m incapable at the moment, of describing everything this photo evokes.
Best Men. My two little brothers. My not-quite-husband. My brothers and I were born in quick succession. Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three. I cannot imagine life without them. My now-husband just fits. There’s no perfection here, just a steadiness. These are the good guys. Sometimes loud, sometimes quiet. God-fearing. I look at that picture and I feel at home. It makes me feel better about the first picture. Because I know we made it out alive. This story has a good ending.
Home again. Home is at this man’s side. For as long as we both shall live. We couldn’t have known the minefields we’d dance through, but we’re still dancing. Nevertheless.