Picture Perfect...

It started when I was about 10, the worrying. A nagging feeling something was out of place. On my bed, the arrangement of Monkey, Raggedy Andy and Major Matt Mason had to be just so. My tennis shoes must always be pointed out while my dress shoes pointed in...everything in its place. Leaving the house became a guaranteed argument with my parents. Being on time was a concept tossed out the window, the always locked, curtains overlapping one inch, shades pulled down exactly 18 inches from the ledge, window. When it was time to go, my sister and brother would wait in the car, betting on how long it would take me to get out of the house. Back and forth, in and out of my room, checking on the boys. This might take awhile. Did I put Monkey on the bed? Did Major Matt Mason fall behind the desk. I couldn't leave till I knew everything was right. I begged my parents just to leave me behind. It would be so much easier that way, and after a while of having to stand in the back of the church too many times, they finally agreed.

One Christmas, Santa got me a brand new Polaroid instant camera. At the time, it seemed an odd gift. I had asked him for the A.M.A's Complete Medical Encyclopedia. Imagine having the answers to all my medical questions...and with colorful illustrations...but a camera would be fun too. I had always been interested in photography. My father let me play with his old Minolta Twin Lens and it became as important to me as any medical journal. The problem was, after saving up for weeks to buy the expensive film, I would take the shots and it would be another couple weeks to save enough to have them developed. Getting the photos back was always depressing. The pictures were good, but the subjects were, many times, now dead. Once I used a whole roll on a stray dog that used to come around the house. We called him Lucky because he only had one eye. After taking the shots, I fed him and he ran happily into the street, getting hit by two cars. Hopefully, he only saw one. Interesting trees where a few days later struck by lighting and interesting relatives passed away. Like none of them ever truly existed. These pictures became a morbid look at what once was. The inevitability of change. After word got around town, mysteriously, subjects became harder to find, so I decided to put away the camera.

But now with my new Polaroid, you take the shot and 30 seconds later, like magic, the truth has been captured. I see it. It does exist. There, in front of me and in my hands. My parents were geniuses. Now when it was time to go, I would grab the Polaroid, snap off a shot of my bed, of the window, of the shoes on the floor and feel fine about taking a ride in the car. If I got a little anxious, I would pull out my "album" and see with my own two eyes, everything was right...everything in its place.

A picture is worth 1000 words - I don't really care about that. For me, one word is fine...one word repeated 1000 times; Peace of Mind. Peace of Mind. Peace of Mind...ect. (You get my point)