Behind Ellinwood

I had a well documented childhood (except for the time I messed up my dad's camera) and was raised by a mother who reminisced a lot. Looking at the photo albums was a routine for me and mom that it gave me to the sense of being there all over again. That dedication and the repetition formed a continous link between the event and the memory: including and especially moments in my childhood as early as when I was two or three years old.

I can still smell the cool air that Sunday morning behind Ellinwood Malate Church. Like watching a silent movie, I recall other kids lining up for Sunday school (in hindsight that must have been because language was still beyond me and my memory) while I sat on the swing with my mom hovering around. I think we were waiting for the service to start; if I can read my mom's mind, she was probably allowing me to use up my energy before having me seat with her in church to minimize my fidgeting.

Ellinwood was surrounded by huge acacia trees which provided a shade for the backyard and playground area. I saw something that morning in that garden that has been etched into my memory, there was something in the way the sun peeked and hid behind the acacia leaves. I thought I was playing a game with someone.

Maybe I was.

As I grew up, somehow I look up at through the trees wondering if somehow I would play that game again. Later, taking up photography, the way sunlight peeks through trees and onto ordinary things had this pull, so thus that photo above and a whole lot more after.