france - 1982

In the new year I have been focusing on the task of cleaning house. All the time. I'm not talking about just dusting here and there, I mean I see something out of place in my office and everything around that particular item or piece of paper or photo has to be pulled, examined, rearranged, touched up, replaced, dusted, cataloged, or just thrown away. I have a collection of old odd photos that I find at flea markets, vintage stores, or just hand me downs, and as I was on a cleaning tirade, I found my favorite photo of me when I was little, which was mixed in with my anonymous photo collection. It was a lovely discovery and made my day. I love it because it reminds me of being comfortable and innocent. I don't care that I'm standing next to a cute dead rabbit (which I assume we ate for dinner), I don't care that my clothes are big and mismatched. I was so lucky to be standing there next to my dad's friend's gardener at that very moment and I didn't even know it. I was happy and little and free with the best parents in the world that took my sister and I to France every other summer and drove around Europe in a little Peujeot. What I would give to be little again, just for one day.