An Ode to Family
Late afternoon sun, slanting just so - the way I remember it at the old house. Sharp shafts forming the perfect diagonal. I remember filling the outline perfectly. Lying there after the torments and adventures, the after school activities, shifting my body with the sun. Supine and small, coiled in the living room, until someone - the nanny, the tutor, my mother - would comment I was becoming odd and wait, arms folded, until I moved.
This series is about that floor. About the coolness and the consistently waxed hardwood. About the people who stand there, waiting for you.