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A Rose for Sharon

  For many years now, I have posted the single pink rose image to my social media on August 19th and June 4th. Those who know me well know it is in honor of my little sister, Sharon, who died in 1994. Her birth date and her death date. That has been the extent of my communication about my sister or her life since. Thirty-two years is a long time to hold onto words. I have considered writing about her. It doesn't matter how deep my feelings are for her or how much I cherish her memory, the words don't come easily, if at all. Words feel cheap and wrong. It's hard to even describe why. Maybe it is because she was our family's: Our sister, our cousin, our niece, our daughter. We knew her best, so no one else should have the right to know about her like we did. Maybe that's why I hold onto my words. But I realize that if I don't tell her story, who will?  I have spent hour upon hour researching my long-gone ancestors, yet I haven't written about my own sister. I ...
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FAVORITE PHOTO

by Nancy Gilbride Casey


This favorite photo of many I have taken over the years comes with a special anecdote.

When our daughter Anne (then known as Annie), was preschool age, she dedicated great parts of each day drawing with markers, painting with watercolors, coloring in books. In summer, she drew with chalk on the sidewalk. 

Every gift-giving occasion was another opportunity to buy a new box of crayons or paints, and reams of paper, tablets large and small, and sheaves of manila and construction paper to feed her never-ending appetite to draw.

Her artwork covered our refrigerator, was sent on to grandparents, and hung on our office bulletin boards. 

Art was already ingrained into her little personality.

Each day Annie created literally a dozen or more creations, in a free flow of imagination, wild, exotic, and uniquely from her sometimes funny and observant perspective.

On the occasion of this photo, I captured her one morning, sitting at her little art easel, paintbrush in hand, engrossed in one of that day's many creations.

"Are you going to be an artist when you grow up, Annie?" I asked.

Without taking her eyes off her artwork, and without skipping a beat, she replied,

"But Mommy...I already AM an artist!"

To this day, I can't argue with that.

 

Until next time...
 
This post was inspired by Amy Johnson Crowe's 52 Ancestor in 52 Weeks Challenge. 

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