She was born in 1986. Early on a Monday morning. MTV preceded her and so did AIDS. The internet and MS Windows as well. All but MTV were mysterious and not too widespread at the time. Reagan was in the White House. That night, I was in a Montrose bar with a suspect fence and a painting of Edie Sedwick on the west wall. Waiting.
I used to hold her in my arms and wonder, just wonder about her, what was going on in her mind, behind that piercing stare she had. I used to hold her in my arms, her tiny fingers wrapped around my single finger, her eyes locked on mine, her stake claimed on my heart.
She is not my child, but she is my baby. She is modest, often shy. Practical, kind. She's fair, that one. She's a peace-loving flower child, to be sure. She has graceful hands, big eyes and experimental hair color. She loves to be behind the camera, and she's talented in that spot. She smiles often and laughs loud. She's not easily swayed. She's her own girl, that's what I admire most about her. To the word, she is joy.
Happy 20th birthday, Peanut.
2 comments:
happy birthday, little sister.
Oh, God, I'm old... I graduated from high school in 1986.
Families are interesting things, aren't they? So rarely delineated by simple boundries, but so, so important to us. From the little slices you show us, I suspect you have an interesting family tree, and story.
Post a Comment