Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Adoring Eyes

Elegant and lovely, my mother sits looking over the lake as he adoring looks at her. Ah, a picture to inspire a romance novel.

I get past my first musings over this picture and ask myself, "Who the heck is this man?!" Not my father. Hm. Puzzles. The pictures in her album, nameless, site-less. They are puzzles. My mind runs over the names mentioned in the past. Was this Doc, Wilbur? Who was this man? Did her future husband know that she was adored by other men? Of course, she was. She was beautiful, this mother of mine.

I get a chuckle whenever I look through the old pictures. Those nameless people could be family....or not. I look for features that might have been handed down to the current generation. I look for locations trying to envision them the way they were before my time. Most of the time, I'm just lost. Who are these people?

As I said, my mother was beautiful. I never knew her the way she looked then. I wish I had. I place the personality I knew as her daughter to the old picture and know that she was a fun, loving woman. It takes me back in time and makes my heart ache a little. I can still hear her voice and feel her loving arms around me. I'm grateful for this woman. But, Mom, who is this guy????

It dawned on me that I don't have these elegant pictures of myself. Maybe we as photographers forget to go for the beauty of the photo opting for a quick picture of a person. Last weekend, a photographer and I were talking about new photography. We crop pictures. We center pictures around faces. We forget that generations from now will look in on this moment in time. I look at the old pictures and see the clothing. The hairstyles. The old cars. The landscape of a time long gone. I look at old houses remembering what I can of them. I look at my history. Perhaps I need to leave more history for my grandchildren.

Mother was a beautiful woman. A beautiful young woman. I'd never seen her this young, yet here she is before me now.

Oh, Mom, who... is... this... man?

Postscript: My sister, Peggy, is sure that the man is my father. I'm still not convinced.

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