Photographs take up a lot of space on my hard drive, and so I try to clean up all my photography files and save them on DVDs when the year is over to make room for new photographs.
I am doing this now, slowly but surely, and as I go through the files, the contrast between my pictures before and after the shit went down in late April is impossible to overlook.
A small sample of pictures from the early spring:
The cherry blossoms outside my bedroom window. So pretty!
Oooooh! A couple of dandelions. They are almost touching! So sweet.
Compare with the pictures I took after April:
A chair in the kitchen, empty except for the shadow of the bars on the window and a sliver of light.
My younger son, asleep.
By the time this last one was taken, I’d given up trying to fake normalcy and the boys no longer bothered even asking if they could sleep in my bed. They just climbed in, a habit that is [unsurprisingly] proving difficult to break.
I kind of love this one, though. I loved that room and I love that boy and I love crawling under sheets that are like that for an afternoon nap. I could crawl in there right now. I think, that day, I probably did. And now I have this photograph, which has superseded my memory of that afternoon, making a terrible time seem, in retrospect, not so terrible after all.