eldest son
photo credit: his daddy.
God, I miss him. Better put, my lens misses him.
He sees the camera and he runs away or scowls and I've got to respect that. Doesn't matter how urgently beautiful I think he is, him in all his almost-sixness. He starts school in a few days, his first classroom of a lifetime of classrooms. I don't know if he'll allow me to capture it -- the new sneakers, the backpack, the schoolbus. It's a cliché but so is motherhood. I can't help either.
Here is my apple, he says. My lego. My dual-hulled tunnelling ship with grappling hook. I built that. Take a picture of that. Or Here. I am Wonder Man. Space Man. Invisible Man.
Yes, I say. You are. What am I?
He whispers in my ear. More than the moon.











Sunday, August 29, 2010
Reader Comments (8)
The moon. Will he pluck you from the sky?
beautiful.
(i am knee-deep in that cliche of new motherhood. you just can't help but think things like "oh she has thrown up all over me now. another rite of passage." and then roll your eyes at yourself when realizing you have thought the phrase rite of passage. but it is...)