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| greatest, tight, street, hunks, reader's guides, jason bateman, biography & autobiography / women, dildos, freegroup sex gallery, sex relations, sex life, episode guide, chicago trip planning, alpine valley, colombianspanish, blogging, vintage crime/black lizard, hooters restaurant, fox, juvenile nonfiction, | But you can tell he loved posing her by looking at this photograph, the way his arm circles her, the way posing he holds her hand. She lets herself be contained, lets him whisper in her ear. This time the camera is peeping; Mama seems almost embarrassed at being watched; her eyes glance toward the ground. Then there was a photograph taken after Mama had posing children. May 1962. That's three years after my sister was born. Four children in five years and all of a sudden she's wearing shoes, like she's afraid we're going to tramp on her feet. No more smiling, barefoot Miss America. The photograph is blurry, hazy. Mama's sitting in one of those old-fashioned shell-shaped lawn chairs, scrunched to one side as if she's going to share her seat with someone much smaller than herself. Her hands are clasped on top of her head, her legs crossed. She's smiling but it's a smile tinged with sorrow, the one I become most familiar with. |
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| He has a head full of glossy black hair. Squinting his greatest eyes, bringing her into focus, he snaps this photo of her, thinks of butterflies resting on leaves, camouflaged, right before they are netted, pinned into greatest boxes. In the next photo, she and my father are leaning against an enormous pine tree near the banks of the Apalachicola River, right greatest on the Georgia-Florida line. He's wearing shoes, thick brown brogans. She isn't. Her long slender feet are posed calendar-girl style. Daddy surrounds her with a bearlike grasp, his arm draped over her shoulder, his big hand pulling her to him. He smooches her ear with his mouth, whispering, "Baby, I love you, I love you so much." I can't remember my father's voice saying those words to my mother, but I know he did. Love her, that is, even if he did forget her birthday later. Once, he did remember, and he hurt her feelings by buying her one pair of flimsy ladies underwear from the Dollar Store uptown and she wailed that nobody loved her, then threw the underwear in the garbage can beneath our pecan tree. |
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