From framed photographs throughout my house - the kitchen, my bedroom wall, my desk - five familiar faces watch me as I go about my day. One of the framed faces is mine, the others belong to friends, some of whom I've known for over thirty years; well over half of my life.
Other photos show images only of children. Children at t-ball games, at dance recitals, at school competitions, in junior high band, on vacations, in college. The five familiar faces aren't in any of these photos, but I know they were there - somewhere in the background - while the children filled our camera lenses.
When it was finally our turn to be photographed, t-ball games and ballet classes were long behind us. The children were gone and, one would think, so was the reason we were friends. The five familiar faces couldn't be more different - in interests, in political opinions, spiritually. What brought us together was our children. What keeps us together is our history and our love.
The framed photos show us smiling at weddings, at showers (bridal and baby), at Christmas dinners and birthday parties - celebrating the hallmarks of our lives and of our children's.
What the photos don't show, can't show, are the other times - the illnesses, the deaths, the divorce, the crises of our lives when we have come together. We've been there to hold a hand, to bring casseroles and hams, to change the sheets on a sickbed, to offer advice and a shoulder to cry on. We've confessed our worst secrets and our worst fears - knowing we won't be judged or betrayed. In spite of our differences, because of our love, we've become each other's mainstays, each other's constants.
From framed photographs five familiar faces watch me as I go about my life.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment