About a month ago, my mother decides that she’d like a family photo. She asks Ardyce, the local photographer, if she’ll be available on the Friday after Thanksgiving, and Ardyce says yes. The plan is to have this photo taken on my parent’s beach (that’s what we call it, anyway, as it’s a private beach less than a half mile from my parents home). And it truly is beautiful-replete with rocky jetty, small dunes, little sailboats in the summer, and even a distant lighthouse. We decide to dress alike: jeans with white tops, something simple that we all have.
But since today is raining, our first thought is to cancel the whole thing. After much debate, we decide to try it. So we all dress in our “outfits” and wait for Ardyce to arrive.
We discuss a few options. In searching for some creativity, Jean even suggests a photo with everyone holding umbrellas. That idea is quickly nixed. Besides, who has thirteen identical umbrellas? We decide instead to take the photos in my parent’s woody back yard. It all feels a bit contrived. The thirteen of us dressed alike. Someone jokingly suggests that after the pictures we could go into town and stand around caroling, given our look-alike wardrobes.
We take some photos in the drizzling rain. It’s chilly, so we rush back into the house when Ardyce feels she’s taken enough. Once inside, some of us want to give the beach a shot. This is not an easy sell. But eventually, we all pile into three cars and head for the beach. Some, complaining all the way.
The huge puddles in the small parking lot make it almost impossible to even get onto the beach. That, and it’s raining harder now and the wind has picked up. Even if we could make it onto the beach and take off our coats to reveal our matchy-matchy outfits, our hair would be wrecked before Ardyce has a chance to snap even one picture. We get back in the cars and drive home.
We still have the backyard photo. And as Adam (my oldest nephew) says, “Even though we didn’t take the picture on the beach, we’ll always have the memory of attempting it.”
We take some photos in the drizzling rain. It’s chilly, so we rush back into the house when Ardyce feels she’s taken enough. Once inside, some of us want to give the beach a shot. This is not an easy sell. But eventually, we all pile into three cars and head for the beach. Some, complaining all the way.
The huge puddles in the small parking lot make it almost impossible to even get onto the beach. That, and it’s raining harder now and the wind has picked up. Even if we could make it onto the beach and take off our coats to reveal our matchy-matchy outfits, our hair would be wrecked before Ardyce has a chance to snap even one picture. We get back in the cars and drive home.
We still have the backyard photo. And as Adam (my oldest nephew) says, “Even though we didn’t take the picture on the beach, we’ll always have the memory of attempting it.”
As for the Friday night ziti dinner: I skipped it and ate instead a salad and turkey sandwich, but ruined it all with Dana’s delicious pie for dessert.
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