Summer back

I’m not sure how it happens – it’s a force akin to the one in the dryer that vanishes away one sock from each load of laundry – but ever so often a photograph drifts into my day. I’ll shake one out of a notebook or move a box and one falls out. I love these unexpected little trips back in time. It’s like finding a twenty-dollar bill in my coat pocket.

Like this photo. I could feel that summer afternoon and hear the rattle of the air conditioner.

That’s me lounging in Mom’s lap. My brother, Lan, sits to the side, grinning. My sandals are tumbled to the floor. That looks to be a Sears catalog on the coffee table. Maybe Mom looked through it. Maybe she thumbed through to find the toy section before handing it to me.

Mom wears a sleeveless blouse and sandals. I’m guessing it’s near the end of the afternoon, not long before she’ll stand and, holding Lan on her hip and me by the hand, and make her way to the kitchen to start supper.

Wait. It’s after supper: as many times as I’ve looked at this photo, I never noticed that the sky outside the window is dark. So we’ve had dinner and Mom is sitting with us, watching TV for a few minutes, before it’s bath time and bedtime.

On the back, my mother wrote the year – 1975 – and the place – Shelby, Mississippi, where we lived until I was about four years old. For a few minutes, I got to go back there.