Taking down the wall of family photos

That wall has been, honestly, something I walked past quickly the last 22 years to get to the guest room or the bathroom. Fifty maybe sixty images, some dating back four generations, mismatched frames. No really order. I knew I was going to be its guardian, so I did not antipate feeling anything when we were dismantling it. It was coming with me; what was there to cry about?

But today, I really looked at each image. My dad as a boy playing in a wide Wisconsin field. My grandparents milking their bourbons at a party. My cousins and me dressed up for a 4th of July parade down Queesnton Road. Then I saw the picture of my mom, her sister and their parents at a shingdig and I had to stop and stare. My mom was ravishingly beautiful. A knock out. Her cinched waist, the fine black cocktail dress, holding a cigarette and a drink in one hand. Laughing at her blonde sister. A head turner. A total babe.

I just started weeping, knowing that my grandfather once told my mother that he loved her sister better. And then, my whole mom's life -- the part I witnessed -- made sense. Her desire to be loved by everyone she met, her need to be the center of attention. Seeking what she was not given as a given.

And, it's a crime really. Because my mom was the stunner in that photo, just as beautiful as her very beautiful sister. How did she not know? That she had "it," no matter what he did or did not say?

And then, to the left a bit, was a picture of me and my brother and our three blonde cousins on the steps in our pajamas. I always thought that Jill, Lisa and Robin were the cutest people in the photos -- certainly eldest Jill. But then I looked, really looked -- not through the lens of my life and my current linebacker body -- and I saw five children. All sweet and clean, still green and wondrous. And one of the kids was an old soul. Deep knowing eyes pulling upon a reserve, her hair pixie cute. Her face angelic, really. A stunner.

And she was me.

My mom and I have something else in common. We never knew that we were ones that radiated, and so we worked so hard to shine. We worked so goddamn hard just to be seen, when all we had to do was relax, and let our lives speak for themselves.