My brother Corey sent me this picture yesterday when I was at work and I just lost it. It’s from Thanksgiving at my grandma’s house in 2002, when we were all still skilled at maintaining a shiny familial veneer in front of company. In fact, I think this may have been Henry’s first holiday with my family so I’m sure everyone was on their best behavior and my grandma probably only referenced me being a literary failure three times over the course of the night. (She used to lie to her friends at our tennis club and tell them I was going to Kent State for journalism because she was embarrassed that I was a lowly office manager in real life.
Oh geez, there goes my shoulder chip again!
Anyway, I love this photo because it captures us so well: Henry, looking exhausted, mildly frightened, and certainly sleazy. Me, looking adorable, mildly pouty, and certainly plotting.
I often find it incredibly surreal and hard to believe that we’re still a couple.
We sit closer together now, though.