I look at these photos and see friends and a brother passed on.
I see highschool friends some still known, some lost touch with. Some are mothers and some will be soon.
I see the promise of childhood in my daughter’s hand brushing the weeds, or are they flowers?
I see a pine cone that will be in my future.
I see my daughter wearing the grass skirt I never did. It took that many years for my mother to come into her own with culture.
I see photographic gifts from an anthropologist who has taken photographs of family.
I see my parents full of anticipation for their children’s future, not realising time will pass so quickly, so quickly these photos will fall like still life memories of their lost son.
I see my childhood, my daughter’s childhood, my mother’s motherhood, and the anticipation that things can change- we can paint a new canvas.
Do I really see? Do I really understand? What are the untold stories of the people in these photographs?
(c) June Perkins all rights reserved collage and words.