I’ve had this picture of my Dad for years.
I don’t know much about it. My Dad didn’t talk much about his growing up years. It sits on an old (and presently dusty) sewing machine / table in my bedroom.
He’s 3 or 4 which would mean it was taken around 1946.
He was the youngest of 2 boys then. With 3 more brothers and a sister to follow.
I’ve always wondered what he was thinking. Is his stripey sweater itchy? Was it a rare and new occurrance to have a picture taken?
I wonder what his favourite book was? Had he already developed a love of Peanut Butter Cookies? Was he scared of the dark? Did he want to be a pirate when he grew up?
One day this tow headed boy would meet a girl.
This girl to be precise.
My mom grew up in Swissvale, a sleepy suburb of Pittsburgh, Where you could walk downtown to the bakery. Or the pizza shop. My grandparents were the first Italians in the neighborhood.
She’s a bit taller now. This was taken when she was in Kindergarten at Newmyer Elementary School. I would go to Kindergarten there too for a few months many many years later.
Sometime after this picture is taken she gets a baby sister. They’ll be best friends for life.
That boy and this girl only lived 15 minutes apart. Different worlds. Waiting for years without even knowing they were waiting.
Until one day that boy met this girl and a story begins.