December 10, 2011


I copied her to a USB drive and slid her into my pocket.

We arrived to the neon lights and glossy floors and aisles of nonsense just in time for an upbeat version of jingle bells.

Not so jingle this year, I thought to her, squeezing the plastic drive.

I pushed her in and she appeared, still warm, hair still wet, still wrapped in blankets.

Hey kiddo.

I stood up to cover the screen, surprised by my own instincts, to protect her from indifferent eyes.

4x6? 8x10?

How about 200x200? Would that be okay?

Here is your picture, he says, handing her back to me.


Hope's Mama said...

Hearing (reading) you say "Hey kiddo". Well that just really tugged at my heart.
Oh Margot, we miss you.

Mary Beth said...

Oh Margot. You are so loved and missed.


still life angie said...

Oh, Josh. Dag. This post is so evocative. Brought we right back to the camera shop and my disk with one picture. With love.

Beck said...

Evocative... good word. I wish you were holding your little M, Josh.

Rachel said...

Missing Margot with you.

Bree said...

Even a 200x200 print isn't big enough to show just how much she fills your mind, your thoughts, your life, your longings, is it?

Someday I want to be brave enough to not care about indifferent eyes and take out our three photos of George for people to see. It's so bizarre to say this but sometimes I feel myself being envious of photos of others' dead babies (hoy crap did I really just write that because it makes me sound like a total weirdo). George doesn't look like a sleeping baby. I see my much loved son but he just really looks like a dead sick baby. I guess that is why only four people (me and L included) have ever seen them.

Bracing myself for an evening full of tears tonight. See you guys soon.

Jeanette said...

I have lots of prints of the same few photos. Everytime I order prints online of the family, I add more of the same into my basket. I just can't not have them.
Love to you. x

Catherine W said...

Oh Josh. Somehow I suspect there isn't a size that would be just right?

My eyes snagged on the same line that Bree picked out, to protect her from indifferent eyes So much love and care in that line, I can almost see you standing there, leaning over the screen with that protective father's instinct.

Funny after G died, I had almost a waking dream or a hallucination that the image of her face almost filled up the whole sky. 200 x 200? Certainly feels as though they should be. Bigger. So loved and so missed.

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