2008 Woodie Awards
The Photograph
Megan Bishop '07
Issue date: 3/22/07 Section: Portfolio
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It is nothing more than an ordinary photograph, taken on an ordinary day when the sky was clear and the mind without memories. My grandmother lies in the grass, feeling only the poke of each blade against her bare skin. Her eyes squint slightly, blocking the sun, and her mouth is wide, rimmed with red. She crosses her legs at the ankle and waits for the flash.
On the other side of the camera is a man who wants to marry her. She knows because her sister told her that the lump in his pocket is a ring and not spare change. It is the type of ring men buy when they think they know what they want out of life. But she thinks much harder than him on most occasions and knows forever is too long a time for them both. She hopes he will forget to ask.
And though the photograph doesn't show it, he is nervous. She can tell because the camera doesn't seem to be working. To be polite, she stays on the grass, her smile fixed, listening to the group of men behind her play bocce and smoke skinny cigarettes. She wishes she were playing with them, wearing pants instead of a skirt, and breathing dark colored smoke into her chest, poisoning the moment if just for an instant. But instead she is frozen in the sunshine, moving neither left nor right, south nor west.
The man she won't marry fiddles with the camera until it flashes in his eyes, and he has to take two steps backward. His smile is crooked and anxious, but he begins to count down from five. Throwing her head back, she fixes her smile, hoping he will remember her this way, how she looked before he reached one. She does not think about her sisters at home, her father's approval, or the husband she will one day meet who isn't this man. Instead she stares straight ahead at the camera, thinking thoughts full of nothing at all.
When the camera finally flashes and a photograph is produced, she sees only white and yellow, bright colors that promise optimistic things like laughter and perfect health. It is not until he puts the camera onto the grass that her smile fades and she hears the voices behind her once again. My grandmother looks for the lump. Her mouth is dry, and she wants for nothing more than a cold glass of water and to escape the surrounding heat.
On the other side of the camera is a man who wants to marry her. She knows because her sister told her that the lump in his pocket is a ring and not spare change. It is the type of ring men buy when they think they know what they want out of life. But she thinks much harder than him on most occasions and knows forever is too long a time for them both. She hopes he will forget to ask.
And though the photograph doesn't show it, he is nervous. She can tell because the camera doesn't seem to be working. To be polite, she stays on the grass, her smile fixed, listening to the group of men behind her play bocce and smoke skinny cigarettes. She wishes she were playing with them, wearing pants instead of a skirt, and breathing dark colored smoke into her chest, poisoning the moment if just for an instant. But instead she is frozen in the sunshine, moving neither left nor right, south nor west.
The man she won't marry fiddles with the camera until it flashes in his eyes, and he has to take two steps backward. His smile is crooked and anxious, but he begins to count down from five. Throwing her head back, she fixes her smile, hoping he will remember her this way, how she looked before he reached one. She does not think about her sisters at home, her father's approval, or the husband she will one day meet who isn't this man. Instead she stares straight ahead at the camera, thinking thoughts full of nothing at all.
When the camera finally flashes and a photograph is produced, she sees only white and yellow, bright colors that promise optimistic things like laughter and perfect health. It is not until he puts the camera onto the grass that her smile fades and she hears the voices behind her once again. My grandmother looks for the lump. Her mouth is dry, and she wants for nothing more than a cold glass of water and to escape the surrounding heat.