Those are the bones of the story, but I have very little flesh to lay over them. My mum didn't remember that time at all, and her mother was my ghastly grandmother (to distinguish her from my lovely grandmother) who didn't talk about it, or at least not about my mother's part in it, which was the part I always wanted to know.
And yet, and yet ... Look at the photos. Hints of the story are there. You can see the seeds of the woman in that little girl. And that fierce finger in the last photo as my mum is poised to run. An entire relationship in a single gesture.
Joan's website.
Joan's blog.
4 comments:
Brilliant photos! A photo can say so much.
Wonderful photographs, as you say, the last one is so telling!
Liz
Presumably they perched small Mum on top of those bricks? And on that too tall chair? Hmm. Amazing you're so 'normal', Joan!!
Thank you Petrea and Liz - and yes Pippa, terrifyingly casual - that verandah without railings in the first picture looks as if it's at tree top level! About that 'normal' thing, though ... Hmmm indeed.
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