So last year I decided to take a self portrait and compare it with a portrait taken by a kid taken a year earlier. I am going to do the same thing this year. I don’t know why. It just kind of seems like a cool thing to do. I am kind of fascinated by the idea of passing time and how it is represented in portraiture.
My mom sent this photo to me yesterday. It was taken in New York City exactly this time of year (end of October) in 1989. If my memory serves me correctly, this photo was taken the day I learned that my boyfriend back home in Spokane died in a car accident the night before. I would go home, after having had a fun day in the City, and learn this sad news. What a strange thing to think about today.
I don’t know what the fuck I am wearing. It was the Eighties.
Today as I was getting ready for work I looked in the mirror at myself and, for the first time in my life, I admired my soft, womanly curves. It was nice to look at myself and not be critical.
My mom and me at 5
I was scrolling through my Flickr stream and noticed these two photos side by side. It is the first time I really compared photos of myself and my mom at the same age. I thought I would throw together a diptych of them for today’s Wayback Wednesday post.
We are both around 5 years old in our portraits.
My first day of kindergarten was the first time I would take a bus anywhere. The yellow bus picked me up right in front of my house. My mom reluctantly handed me off to the bus driver and away I went to school. The trip to school was fine. It was getting back home that was the problem. I didn’t know what to do. The bus driver drove and drove and drove as each child was delivered home. I ended up being the last person on the bus. I sat there, all alone and afraid. The bus driver asked me where I lived and I don’t remember what I told him. I remember being very afraid. I am sure I cried. Eventually we made our way back to my home where my mom was waiting for me. I am still not sure why this happened. I think I was too shy to tell the bus driver to stop.
I remember the snack that first day. I remember being give Cheez-its for the first time for my snack and describing them to my sister later on after I came home. I thought they were the most delicious and wonderful food I have ever eaten. I was fascinated by thier size and the tiniest hole in the middle of them.
I have a vague memory of playing Wallball and Four Square.
I remember feeling out of place. I remember being shy with the other kids.