14 April 2006
I present to you my most treasured photobooth snapshot of all time: me with my mom (gussy) and my dad (jim) in the summer of 1972. no one is really sure where we were (I certainly don't remember) though st. louis seems to be the likeliest place. six flags amusement park, maybe (more about those trips here). I can't tell you how much time I've spent staring at this one (and there's another just like it here, though not quite as cute). I am in love with the looks on the faces of my parents, the way it has been torn (nobody knows what happened to the other two pics), the way my bangs have been cut. ah, my brief stint as an only child. and when I think back to how lost I felt as a new mother, how lost both ward and I were when ava first came along, I can't help but marvel over the love and assurance in the eyes and smiles of my mom and dad.
those first years weren't flawless, though: a couple of months after this photo was taken, my parents lost me for about twenty minutes. which sounds like absolutely nothing unless you have children. or have ever taken care of children. twenty minutes in a situtation like that is like 53 years. and the story that my parents love to tell (over and over) goes like this: it was halloween night and they were getting ready to go to a costume party. my dad went to get the babysitter while my mom finished dressing and when he returned, there was this terrifying exchange (undoubtedly every parent's worst nightmare):
"wait, didn't you take her with you when you went to pick up the babysitter?"
"you're joking, right?"
(my dad is known for the joking)
"no gus, I'm NOT kidding. I don't have her... I thought YOU had her!"
and I'm sure there was an abrupt silence (the silence to end all silences) and you know there were colorless faces and great tidal waves of panic. because I lost ava for like, thirty seconds once and that instantaneously shaved a good eight years off my life, FOR REALS. and from what I've been told, they tore out of the house and took to to the small town streets to search for me. what my mom remembers most is how silent it was-- as if everything and everyone had stopped. they yelled and yelled and yelled for me but I was nowhere, there was no one, no sound, nothing. they decided to scope out downtown (a very, very small downtown-- think a couple of shops, a post office, a dairy queen, a court house) and there I was. the woman that was holding me in her arms said she watched me walk (with so much purpose) down the street and then immediately picked me up when she saw I was getting ready to cross the main drag alone. this is the story my parents love to tell when they are talking about my strong will and sense of independence, my endless amounts of energy and fearless explorations. it's something I will never live down even though I have no recollection of the event.
my parents are in town this weekend and so I decided to spread out all the old family photobooth snapshots on the dining room table. people, I have been blessed with the motherload of great family photobooth snaps. I couldn't scribble down the details fast enough as they talked about each one. so much I had not yet heard, so many delicious little details-- better even than the marshmallow peeps and chocolate bunnies I will be nibbling on throughout the weekend.
speaking of which, happy easter to all my peeps.
more deliciously sweet photobooth fridays for the sampling: