I am looking at a picture of my youngest son and Robbie taken years ago at our old house.
It amazes me how many things this brings up, just looking at this simple shot.
I know the time of year, not by the fact that B. is barefoot, but by the angle of the sun. The sun only came straight at the door like that in the summer.
It makes me remember how little we had to live on, because the shirt that B. is wearing was actually mine. It’s a bit too big you see.
I remember the rug he is sitting on. I pilfered it from my parents house that they were selling.
The front door that I insisted on painting burnt orange that made a certain grouchy person I was married to at the time, huffy. (He was grouchy about so MANY things….) But I loved that door. It was bright and cheerful.
My shadow is there. I had long hair then. Fuzzy, frizzy long hair.
The shadow on the other side of the door frame is of red raspberry bushes that used to grow in front of the porch. People used to come and visit and eat berries while we talked outside.
And my favorite thing is that B. is hugging Robbie. Which is what I want to be doing. So I have it taped to my computer monitor. And every time I look at it, I feel like I am hugging him too.
[album 65561 Front Door.JPG]