something I am grateful for today

hearing robins right when I wake up

time

When I was three, my parents took me and my two older brothers to a photographer's studio for professional colour portraits. [Not a trivial thing in those days: expensive and difficult to arrange.] I remember nothing about the experience, but I remember the photos, because they were displayed in the house for years afterward. My portrait is now in my possession somewhere....

My brothers' pictures are standard sweet smiles. But I am a blond blue-eyed child [I turned brunette around age six], in front of a plain turquoise background, wearing a shirt in the yellow MacLeod tartan, and I am not smiling. I'm not looking at the camera. I'm looking off to the side, my brow is furrowed in anxiety, and my mouth has a soft twist like I'm trying not to cry. To me, it looks so much like I'm afraid that a pack of hyenas might be lurking somewhere behind me, but I am forbidden to turn and check. This was apparently the best they could get out of me. As a portrait of a kid who has already learned not to trust the world, it's impressive.

I mention this because today I happened to catch sight of my reflection and realized I could still see those same eyes.

Over sixty years later, and that little kid who doesn't trust the world is still in there, somewhere....