Chapter one: Learning how to eat. Angie could lift a spoon when it was placed in her hand, but had a heck of a time hitting her mouth. She tended to miss and bounce the spoon off her right cheek. So, I helped her, fed her a half-teaspoon at a time, and she managed to eat a half plate of puree meat, veggies, and mash potatoes in 45 minutes. When she had enough, she put up her palm and smiled a half-smile of thanks. I wiped off her chin and thought briefly of my young boys and how I used to feed them the same way. Some days, I was so impatient with them, I rushed them, pressed them to be independent, to hurry and grow up. Now they feed themselves and I kind of miss those messy-face meals.
Missing bits, July 2008
Mystery wall, July 2008
The sky seems familiar, July 2008
A light sign on the wall, July 2008
Photos: So starts another series of small town photos. This time the town where I live.
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4 comments:
That is a beautiful, beautiful sky. My favorite kind of sky.
I don't know how I'd manage to find the courage to endure the indignities of having to relearn how to eat. With luck, I'll never have to.
Beautiful photos (as usual). These have quite a different feel from the recent Viking series — more abstract, perhaps? I find that stroke of light on the brick wall in the last photo so powerful; important out of all proportion to its size.
The blown-out highlights at the end of the alley distract my eye a little, but perhaps if they weren't blown out, the retained detail might have made it too complicated? That (overly?) bright patch does seem to work well with the light streak on the brickwork, though.
Humbling story about Angie. The transition to memories of feeding your boys was great.
I think we all rush through moments instead of pausing to experience them. Then regret. You'd think we'd learn.
Photos are lovely. I like the sky too.
Captain, Ah yes, the blue. Like the beach.
Pete, I'm with you on the washed out background. I played with it a little. With a red filter, there's a patch of blue sky (in B&W) but it looked like a puzzle piece floating there. If I could go back in time like Hiro, I'd frame around the patch on the brick a bit more and maybe underexpose a stop or two to see if I could get more detail to play with. I'm glad that there will be more beams of light to play with!
Indignity of learning to eat? I'm not sure I look at it that way. Not fun to be sure, but I find there's something reassuring in the thought that the latter months of life can look so much like the early ones. It puts all our grown up suffering into the perspective of impermanence and helps (me anyway) start to let go of some of the habits that cause my own cloudy days.
C2+3: "You'd think we learn." We do learn. We are learning. Some habits (like thinking!) are just hard to break. Maybe break isn't the right word. Bend is better.
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