Thursday, August 04, 2005
Souvenirs
This evening dad came over for our post-vacation exchange. Dad returned a bottle of Children's Motrin, Max's hooded sweatshirt, a pair of child's scissors, our well-worn copy of Where the Wild Things Are, and three dozen photos from the trip to Seattle. As quid pro quo, I sent dinner for dad and mom, whose unfortunate memento from the trip is Max's fever.
When Max spied the stack of pictures on the kitchen counter, he descended on them. Max has already been gripped by the perhaps-universal phenomenon of searching photographs for his own image. Slowly Max fingered the pictures, offering a narrative behind each one: "That's me and Babee and Boo picking blueberries. That's Uncle Paul and Kimberly at their house. That's Boo hiding in the curtains." Halfway through this exercise, Max experienced a revelation noteworthy only because it emanated from someone not yet four: "These pictures are helping me remember!"
Having finished his initial review, Max rummaged through the photos now strewn across the island. After careful editing, he selected two. In one, a black penguin floats in an aquamarine pool, its neck craned backwards for a moment's preening. In the second, Max stares enraptured at a young woman in red dancing to a banjo's tune. "These are my favorites," he announced, whereupon he carried them to his room and tucked them beneath his comforter, perhaps to come alive again in his dreams.
When Max spied the stack of pictures on the kitchen counter, he descended on them. Max has already been gripped by the perhaps-universal phenomenon of searching photographs for his own image. Slowly Max fingered the pictures, offering a narrative behind each one: "That's me and Babee and Boo picking blueberries. That's Uncle Paul and Kimberly at their house. That's Boo hiding in the curtains." Halfway through this exercise, Max experienced a revelation noteworthy only because it emanated from someone not yet four: "These pictures are helping me remember!"
Having finished his initial review, Max rummaged through the photos now strewn across the island. After careful editing, he selected two. In one, a black penguin floats in an aquamarine pool, its neck craned backwards for a moment's preening. In the second, Max stares enraptured at a young woman in red dancing to a banjo's tune. "These are my favorites," he announced, whereupon he carried them to his room and tucked them beneath his comforter, perhaps to come alive again in his dreams.
1 Comments:
The photo of Max watching the clogger is one of my favorites, too. I also like the one I took of you and Reed at the blueberry farm, with one of Reed's front teeth obscured by a blueberry remnant. I'll send some of my photos along soon.
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