(prompt: ‘agree’ July 3 2020)
Earlier today, while I waited at the photographers for a ‘dummy run’ for that portrait I promised Henry for Christmas (Remember? The special one he’s always hounding me for?), I found myself having second thoughts about the damn-fool thing.
What on earth had I been thinking? Why oh why did I agree to this? It’s OK to think about capturing my ‘now’ moment—although at 28, I think much of my life has already been spent. Still and all, I’m sure I’ll look pretty young to myself when I’m old and grey. It’ll be a comfort, that’s for sure.
BUT… is he worth it? Really worth it? I thought so once. When I was young, eyes filled with stars, he seemed SO debonair—a man of the world. And charming? He’d likely woo the furry skin off a peach, he was that stylish and refined. As the years together have unfolded, it turns out he’s awfully possessive. Thought that was kind of sweet at first, but I’m liking it less and less as time goes on. To be honest, it’s beginning to drive me crazy…
Nonetheless, THIS is the day I promised to give this photo business a ‘try-out’, and so here I sit in the waiting room alongside an increasingly impatient Henry, as I stare out the window at the clouds scudding by. I’m agonising over this and other of our many problems when I suddenly have that funny feeling of being watched. You know how you get a queer, creepy feeling inching up your spine, making your neck hairs quiver? I look across the room and catch this couple staring so hard they’re not able to look away for several eye-locked moments. Why?
I ponder some, and then, because of the boredom of the moment, I begin to invent reasons. They’re much older than Henry and I. Maybe their solemn regard is envy for what they perceive as a younger, more successful and happier couple than themselves; although a careful appraisal could put that idea to rest, surely!
Then I’m thinking maybe they fancy me looking like a long-gone (maybe ‘dearly departed’) relative of theirs. A mother? A barely-tolerated snoopy spinster great-aunt? Although I feel far from a matronly figure, I guess this black silk dress IS ageing; suggestive of a time long ago. But that was Henry’s doing! He wouldn’t countenance anything but an olde worlde look for this photo episode, with us both dressed in our grandparents’ clothes of their era. Even my hairdo (to my hairdresser’s hilarity), and the beard Henry has cultivated from forever ago, has to be seen to be believed.
Or there’s the highly unlikely one that they’re filled with wonder (even envy?) of our yesteryear costumes? (Or more likely thanking the powers that be that fashions HAVE changed!)
On second thoughts… and third… I… uhrr, have an urgent need of the smallest room!
Now THIS should be an experience!?!