I have this 19” picture of Drew across my computer screen marked up, but not too obstructed, by the plethora of desktop icons. It was taken from inside a pagoda going up
He has a slight grin showing from his profile and in the corner of one eye you can see his smile wrinkles. He looks happy, contented to take on this horizons view—looking forward to where this ride will take us… a place we’ve never been before.
As I see how his forehead and chin are almost washed out by the sunlight, I can’t help but think of how his “golden boy” image has been tinted, the same way half of his face and eyes are now darkened. Maybe in the shadow he can see further now. Or, maybe he’s not blinded by the light. It’s not overwhelming to him at this moment. He is taking in the view from this particular stance and seems to be enjoying it.
He’s changed. He doesn’t have that young glow about him anymore. This picture seems to capture his reality. Yes, his eyes are shaded. But you know, he can see better now. And he is smiling.
This picture makes me feel warm and happy—deep happiness—for him. He looks good. Sometimes I trace his profile or touch the corner of his eyes with the mouse’s arrow and think to myself, “He deserves to be happy.”
The other morning, when I was still in bed and he was getting ready to leave for work, he yelled up to me from downstairs that there were two Canadian geese in the pond behind our house. He loves Canadian geese. There is just something about them he has always been fond of. Years ago, he told me that he liked the fact that they mate for life. When Beanie Babies were the fad of the time, I bought a couple Canadian geese which, after all these years, are probably collecting dust while hiding in a closet somewhere.