I suppose when you look at this photo, you see a brother and a sister in one of those toy cars. Cute, but unremarkable.
When I saw this picture on the screen on the camera, tears came to my eyes and my heart started racing.
Because of this:
This is one of a series of photos that my mother took of my younger brother and I driving around on our tractor (please note this was the 80′s on a farm in Iowa and this was one of the LEAST dangerous activities we engaged in). I still remember the day. We had SO much fun. My father had this thing about straight lines when we mowed the grass and Josh and I were just going everywhere. I remember laughing about how irritated he was going to be. But Josh wanted to learn to drive the tractor*, so who cared. We rode for ages around the field in front of the house, lowering the mower whenever we felt like it. Making big loops and swirls. Having a blast.
The farm it was taken on was the best place I have ever lived — possibly the only place I have ever thought of as “home”. This photo, and its companions have hung in every house my mother has lived in since. It reminds me of that magical home and its surroundings – of all of the laughter and mischief we got up to and how much I love my family.
And so when I took a picture of a little brown-haired girl and her beloved little brother, I couldn’t help but fall in hopelessly in love with a mediocre picture that wouldn’t mean much to any one else.
* I didn’t do a very good job of teaching him to drive, because shortly after this he crashed the tractor into the satellite dish.