Anna & Amos
This photo prompted me to think about creating “poetry from the evidence” (see my about page for the reference), and the qualities that make you want to stay with a photograph, to keep looking at it. It’s pretty rare. I chose this photo to be the header of my blog for many reasons, which I’ve never articulated.
For me, the first thing my eye goes to is Anna’s finger, so strong, trying to dig into that space between the planks. I love her curiosity, her determination. I feel reverence for how much time we spend, in childhood, to examine the details, to look in the cracks.
Then I feel the wooden planks, their texture, and think of the possible splinters. This tension is immediately calmed by Amos, lazily lying there, watching me watching them. I think he’s telling me not to worry about the splinters, that he’s on duty as the guardian angel. He was a stray cat who spent his evenings in the forest and his days with my sister and her family. He’s the first cat I loved. He came right to my lap whenever I sat down, disarming the dog-lover that I am.
I notice the watering can behind Amos, also lying down. It reminds me of the joy of watering flowers for my mom when I was young, and had nothing more pressing to do. Taking pride in the responsibility.
Then I see Anna’s eyelashes, her chubby cheeks and chubby little arm and feel my heart simultaneously ache and delight in the sweet innocence of toddlerhood. It’s so fleeting. I’m grateful for this photograph, this teeny tiny moment, paused, so we can spend time with it. It might seem silly, or obvious, but I don’t think I’ve ever really said the words, I am so grateful for photography.
Me & sweet Amos, the first cat I ever held and cuddled.
“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.”