project 52 / week 15 / a secret
15/52 / fragments of a secret
In a house sits a lamp, in a guest bedroom with a window that faces south. It used to sit in a green house on Illinois Avenue atop a bedside table in the middle bedroom. The wall across from it, shrouded in photographs of a family tree. Words were whispered back and forth in this room.
”doghouse” “firefighter” “notebook”
”I don’t get it.”
It’s a compound word.
”What’s a compound?”
A compound word is formed by combining two smaller words to create a new meaning.
And it went on and on with my questioning and her answering. Always the teacher (her not me). I can recite all the compound words we said. But doghouse was a big one. You can have a dog, and a house, and a doghouse. Who knew? I try to recall the last one-on-one talk we had. She asked about the boy I liked, about photography and art, about who I wanted to be. I wish I remember those words like I remember the “compound” lesson but I don’t. And I wish she could have seen who I became, a teacher too.
She taught me a how to tie my shoes, how to draw a cartoon in profile view, how to spell, how to make popcorn, how to put a knife under my plate so the syrup didn’t touch my pancake and — a whole lot more.
This weekend the family gathered and we played another round of “Remember When”. When I got back to my sisters, back to the guest bedroom, back to the lamp. I turned it on and went about getting ready for sleep, tidying my suitcase, plugging in devices, closing curtains and in the picture frame across from the lamp, the memory sparked again. I pulled out my camera and photographed it, not thinking I’d use it for this, or anything really but I kept seeing these little hints, small touches of her. Recalling how everyone spoke today of how they listened to a little voice, a tug of a feeling, and went where it called or didn’t, and regretted it. And even though it didn’t feel like a “photograph” I listened, followed the hunch, and took the photographs. I’m not sure, now, why I’m using it for this, but it feels like I should. So like the shadow I am, I’ll follow it.
15/52 This is what did it, it looks like the start of “Willow”.
15/52 fragments of light