Isn’t it funny how one rather small thing can lead to a huge
one? This past week that was purchasing a frame for Ethan’s 1-year-old picture.
Suddenly the few pictures we have on the walls needed to be moved…and more
pictures needed to be pulled out of a box. I’m not exactly sure why, but two
days later…well, our new photo gallery does look rather nice if I do say so
myself.
The truth is, I simply didn’t hang pictures when we moved
here. We didn’t plan on being here long (still don’t) and one childhood rule
from moving about and living in rental homes still penetrates my conscience:
unless there’s a nail in the wall, don’t hang pictures. I still feel a bit
guilty as I type this…
Ed insisted I should hang pictures when we moved in: he can
fix the holes and our landlord will repaint everything when we move out anyhow.
But even though he says that, I can feel him cringe the couple of times I have
put something of Emry’s on the wall. So, I hung up my beloved Arlington
National Cemetery photograph above my desk and Emry’s 1-year-old picture. But
then we had a nice photo taken of the Sturm grandkids this past summer for my
parents’ 40th anniversary and that needed tobe hung…and then Ethan
turned one…and it was starting to look very bizarre having random photographs
hung in random places. While we agreed the three pictures of the kids needed to
be brought together and displayed over the couch, it was going to look a little
odd on such a large wall. So, I dug into my un-hung picture box and pulled out
all the photos I wanted to make into a “gallery”. With a little help from
Pinterest (because all I could see in my mind was a pile of frames on the table
and a huge expanse of white wall), I mapped out a layout and got started. For
someone who needs serious help just to hang photos, I think it turned out quite
nicely.
And Emry apparently loves it. For one, she is in several of
the photos. Which she loves to talk about, beginning the conversation with one
of her favorite phrases, “Do you ‘member?” Now I will say that Emry has a keen
memory. It’s been well over a month since we went to get Ethan’s 1-year picture
taken and she can remember it down to what color lollipop she was eating. It’s
been 9 months since she saw all her cousins and we managed to herd them into a
very nice photo-opt, yet she knows each of them and can tell you things they
did on that trip to Indiana. But when it comes to remembering the picture of
her, myself and Ed within an hour of her birth…well, this is what she had to
say:
“Do you ‘member? When Emry was born. And Mama came. And Papa
came. To see Emry born. Do you ‘member?”
In this situation, I have to say I don’t quite remember it
the same way she does. I don’t remember having the option of coming or not. I’m
pretty sure I was required to be present for this very important moment of
Emry’s life. But memories are funny things. It has been nearly three years. I
could be wrong. Even though the parts of my body that will never be the same
again tell me otherwise. And often wish that Emry’s version was the truth. Although,
I would do it all over again…as that picture often reminds me.
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