Old photos
I just turned my brother onto flickr. http://www.flickr.com/photos/turpin-photos/collections/72157616694611057/ He proceeded to upload 1000′s of old scanned photos that he had been working on for the last few years. Each night for the past few days, I have become lost in surfing through pictures of my past and my families past. I feel like a peeping Tom, peering into the window of someone’s house. These people in the pictures are strangers- but familiar strangers.
My mother and sister died when I was 16 in a car crash. I have some memories of my mother- most good- Life went on and other family members came and others died. Looking at these old photos in which over half of the people are deceased brings up great feelings in me. I see lives- FULL happy lives- some cut short- some long and some too long. I see photos of my mother in her glory days- thin, beautiful and not afraid of the camera- always posing, always smiling and always looking snazzy and beautiful. I see her evolve into my mother, our mother. I see her body and her face change- the smile is always the same but the posing and self confidence that is once so apparent seems to be gone- her careless toss of the head and light up the room glow is replaced by the stiff stance of a pose with children. I see myself. I see the self conciousness of being uncomfortable in your own skin. I also see my mom- MY mom. Ordinary- fabulous-beautiful at any weight, any light, any time. What I wouldnt give to see her again, fat or thin, happy or sad, comfortable or not.
In these pictures, I find pictures of myself- weight up, weight down. I then see weight way way down- the glow! The pose! Its there. Only a few times, but its there. Why are we reduced to the size of our ass? Are we any less important because of a number on the scale? I can only remember a handful or less of times in my life that I felt absolutely free of my weight bondage- I was all too aware of being “normal” Walking along a parking lot in a 2 pc swimsuit with a pair of shorts pulled on- feeling “normal” Getting out of a car as a teen in a miniskirt knowing that I looked damn good and that the old flame I was teasing was gonna have a jaw drop. wow- two moments. TWO. Two of the millions and millions of moments in my life. The majority of what else I have felt over the years is uncomfortable- not quite fitting in- worried about what other think- Fully aware that what others think is not nearly as much as my mind has them thinking..
I just went back to look yet again- a great sadness has come, bring me to tears. I grieve for the family I once had. Mom, Dad, Sister, Brother. The american dream. Shattered too early. Bringing with it sadness, sorrow, loss, change and scars. Scars so deep they may never heal nor do I want to go to that depth to bring healing. I can only peek into the past for a bit before my eyes brim with tears. I then come away for a minute only to go back to peer again into the past- so faintly familar but so far away. I realize that life is short- moments come, moments go but it only takes one moment to change the fate of the rest forever. I must learn to grasp today, live in the moment, enjoy the moment, make memories for my kids- happy memories and not memories of mom running from her own skin. Who cares? I know they don’t. Its all in my own head
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