Old Photographs

Tonight Sally and I looked at my family photographs that were recently left from my mother who died nearly a year ago. There are boxes of photographs. Some were taken as long ago as the mid-1800s, in the early days of portrait photography; sepia toned daguerreotypes with glints of silver when you hold them at a certain angle. The photos span generations, centuries. We were sifting through pictures from more recent times, the 1960s and 70s. I saw myself, a much younger, thinner and more handsome man. I saw my parents, both dead, and my grandparents, also dead of course. One of the strangest sensations was looking at pictures of my parents from the early 1940s when they were children. You can never really think of them as children, because in your earliest memories they are the adults, and in control, and as a child you needed them just that way for your well being. I love seeing baby pictures and kid pictures of my own three children who our now young adults.

Sally is not in any of the photos but yet she is everywhere in my life these days. We have only been together a little over a year and a half. She loves going through the photos and asking about a certain relative, and I enjoy being able to identify them, at least the ones that aren't 150+ years old! Because Sally never knew her father, her family and its genealogy is less documented than mine. But Sally is my family now. Sally and I together in our happy home are a family, along with our children who don't live with us but whom we see often, and our siblings and their families, whom we maintain a relationship with and visit when we can. Really, what more can you ask for?