Actual physical printed photographs.
One snuck up on me today as I was cleaning and it stopped me in my path. It was an original without filters or retakes or retouches. It was just a moment in a chair. But I recognize everything in the background. The white and gold lamp that was ceramic on the bottom and one of two hexagon shaped end tables. Maybe this was the one that held the yellow pages from multiple years or maybe it was the one that held decks of cards and games I loved as a kid. On the wall is a gold colored frame holding a piece of art , a frame that traveled from the house in Chicago to three successive apartments until eventually it took up residence in the assisted living facility where I got to say goodbye.
In this picture my cousin and I are on her lap. One of countless times over the years I would sit on her lap, on her chair, with her arm around me. I am tempted to go through the box of photographs and find more chair photos of us, because I’m glad that no matter how old I got, I was never too old to sit on the chair with her.
I am thankful for this photograph in all of its simplicity. It’s nothing special or frame worthy, but it does what I need it to do. It helps me remember. It helps me smile. It helps me cry.
It makes me thankful…