Hilary and Christopher

Easton, Massachusetts

1979

I love this picture of me and Christopher.  The original photo itself has a solid weight and distinct feel of the paper it was printed on almost 30 years ago.  The old 3 1/2 X 5 pictures have rounded corners and on the back, were printed to look like the back of a post card.  My great-aunt Carol’s handwriting recorded our names and the date on the faded green lines, while the Kodak logo takes up much of the remaining space. 

I look sad, my lip’s poked about a bit. My big brother’s got me on his lap, and I’d like think he’s thinking of a way to cheer me up.  Either that or he’s about to give me a giant shove onto the floor. 

My posts, as of late, have felt more like reporting than observing. Before, when I said that there were areas in my life that I was trying to master, I had no idea that mastery was so time consuming!  Seriously, I’m not even trying to be funny.  Add to the fact that daylight savings has all but crippled by “get-up and go”, leaving me constantly wondering, “Where’d the time go?”.  I’ve just been throwing up mash-ups of thoughts and ideas, hoping somehow they flow with the photo.  

I have been running around trying to keep up with all of these goals I’ve set for myself.  Eating right takes forethought and planning.  Scheduling playdates take more planning and an inordinate amount of emails between parents. Being an active participant in my various organizations and going to meetings.  Still learning the camera. Side note: Would you believe I’m going to be shooting a wedding this summer? My friend Kendall over at This is Happily Ever After asked me to help her shoot a wedding down in Duck this coming June! So exciting! I’m still doing jazz hands about it.  Still working on French conversation.  I’m actually talking to myself in French to get more comfortable. Ce n’est pas facile, mais, je fais qu’est-ce que je peux.

I realized I was getting behind in the blog, so I figured even if this post isn’t directly related to the photo, writing about something is better than nothing.  It reminds me of a friend of mine who said that she would journal everyday even if all she wrote was, “I have nothing to say”.  She said she had pages and pages of that phrase, but inevitably, something in her brain would kickstart and she’d turn it around.  There’s a moral to that story there, I’m sure. 

Maybe if I write, “There’s a moral to that story”, it’ll come to me.