There’s nothing all that noteworthy about this photo Mother took of Debby and me one morning as we sat at the table after breakfast. It’s one of many mornings we spent like that, the three of us. Sometimes a roommate or friend would be there. Sometimes Terri; maybe a grandchild or four. What makes it special is that regardless of the times there might have been mother/daughter friction–of the normal variety–there was never any doubt that we got each other. No matter what, we ended up laughing about something. That still happens inside the family, even with our parents gone.
I know this was taken in my apartment because of the glass end table in the corner and that I’m sitting in my rocking chair. Plus some of the plates on the table are from my old Tupperware picnic set. I think that white blob behind Debby is her dog Spanky. I know it’s Mother taking the picture not just because the photo is with her other Kodak shots, but because her omnipresent cigarette case is on the table.
Still, there are some mysteries. The chair Debby’s sitting in looks like one belonging to Mother’s dining room furniture, but I don’t remember ever having those chairs (I have two now that I took after she died). I also don’t know who this table belonged to. It didn’t come with Tom and me to Texas, because we had to borrow one from Lynne and Craig for a couple of years until I acquired the one I have now (it once belonged to Steve R; his parents urged me to take it after he died). I must have borrowed this table from someone, but I’m drawing a blank.
Also, I wonder why my walls were so bare? Now those walls would be covered with art.
Finally, I can’t figure out why there’s a glass of milk next to my plate and a glass of Coke next to Debby. That’s the reverse of what we’d have drunk at breakfast (I still don’t drink milk, but I no longer drink Coke. I drink water and coffee–and sometimes hot tea–healthier, right?). Maybe we were already up and about to clear the table when Mother made us sit back down so she could take the picture. I guess she, too, liked remembering that a not-that-noteworthy morning could still be something special.