Wednesdays with Manu

Forest Hills, PA - September 20, 2009

There are certain old pictures of Tahera and Arman that make me feel that my life and my family haven’t changed so much since we left Pittsburgh. This isn’t one of them. This is the kind of shot that gives me a feeling of vertigo as stare, trying to get my head around just how much is different.

For starters, look at the little guy. He’s… so little! Arman today has lost a great deal of the chubby roundness that you associate with babies. He’s taller and leaner, which pairs appropriately with his newfound oppositional-2-year-old’s voice. Here he’s holding a sippy cup that we’ve long since disposed of and beaming down at me from the porch of a home that’s no longer ours (The woodwork behind them really did need the painting it received later).

And look at Zeemu!

What, you don’t see him? Oh he’s there clear as day to me, and it’s not just the pleasant bump of the late 2nd trimester. He’s there in her eyes. Her cheekbones. Look at her. See that glow? There. Now you see him.

Heck, even the colors of this picture strike me as just a touch faded, never mind that digital photos don’t lose their saturation.

This past Wednesday, Arman happily had Tahera and Azeem go with he and I for a couple of burgers from 5-Guys. It’s probably the single most unhealthy meal the family ever indulges in, but everyone cuts loose from the healthy kick once in a while, yeah?

It was a really great time, and I’d planned to write all sorts of detail about how darling and sweet and messy and wonderful the whole trip was, and instead I stumbled onto this photo and am still caught up in it.

There’s a really great quote from Stephen King that sums up the feeling really well:

“So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we seem them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely if ever crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.”

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