The Truth in Boxes

The girl in this 70’s photo used to be me, but I can barely recognize her. Who was she and what was she thinking? Why was she posing like that? I haven’t the foggiest idea. I know this girl was generally angry, but I can’t remember exactly why. Maybe all girls go through an angry stage? Who took the photo? Probably my father, pleased to document the construction of our lakeside cottage in Quebec. My brother — my only sibling — looks happy, though there was much sadness soon to come. This would have been shortly before our parents separated and eventually divorced. Our grandfather appears to be wondering what might happen to these two grandchildren. Or maybe he was thinking about lunch. Who can tell what anyone else is thinking…

I’ve been discovering all sorts of things about myself since moving into our new house. After years of waiting in sealed boxes until they found their “permanent home”, photo albums, files, books and magazines are now slowly being unpacked, along with souvenirs from long-past holidays and clothing that belongs to a previous century.

From my collection of stuff it’s clear that I’m interested in flowers and music and art and photography and cooking and animals and travel and 19th century English literature. I’m a saver but not a hoarder. I’m more utilitarian than vain — but there is still some vanity. Maybe some day I’ll wear those expensive dresses with the price tags still attached. I am not a particularly neat person, but I’m quite well organized. I buy good quality things. I am interested in Buddhism and Hinduism. And meteorology. I love to sail. And I paint the walls of my house bright colors.

Painting my walls bright colors is the reason why I have not been blogging recently. I still have no idea where my running shoes are, but given a choice between painting or unpacking, I will paint. Soon I’ll give you a tour of my new house, when it’s all finished. Right now, it’s time to scrub the red paint off my hands and get some sleep…

India

6 Comments on “The Truth in Boxes

  1. with every discovery comes a moment of astonishment…enjoy, but don’t stay back there too long, there is too much still to come. Love your work.

  2. .. I remember that young girl in the photo back in the Townships… so bright… eloquent.. and a far better student than me … so nice to hear of your ‘now’.. and to compare and contrast it with reflections to times long gone by… peace this day.

    • Haha, I’m not sure that I was a better student than you, but I happily thank you for the compliments!! By the way, I just love the name/words “killarneyredcanoe” — gives me a peaceful feeling. Have a wonderful day…

  3. Phyllis (or "tousin puddis as your dad called me many many years ago.)

    I have a love/hate relationship with my boxes of photos and memorabilia. They tie me to my past with both love and sadness. I am always relieved to put them away and climb back into the ongoing present. Red walls are a great cure for whatever ails one. 😉

    • I know what you mean, Phyllis. In the end, all the life gets drained out of the past. Best to keep moving forward, going with the flow of life. And I am so happy with my red walls!! Not quite sure why red is calling out to me so strongly right now, but I’m not about to say no…

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