More Steve Hanks
I posted years ago about a print by Steve Hanks my mother got me:
I had found it and printed it out to show her because, believe it or not, the girl in it looks just like me at that age. I even had a similar bathing suit. And at the age, I kept asking Mom to show me how to make castles like that where you drizzle the sand with some water through your fingertips. I couldn’t do it; clumps would drop down like bombs onto the castle and she tried to show me again, until I’d basically do the body and she’d do the towers. I felt so triumphant the day I finally could do it myself.
Once I lost my mom, the memories and feelings the print represents has a whole other layer. Which is why this one floored me:
I don't know how I missed this one when I found the other. But there I am again, this time playing with the edge of the waves. My mom would stand in this spot while she watched us; the water would bury her feet in the sand. That fascinated me for some reason, so I'd stand there too and watch my feet disappear further and further. If I had to really pull at them to unbury, it was some kind of triumph. I don't know why. Because I stood so long? Because they were so deep, deeper than anybody around me?
I need to get this print at some point and put it next to the other. But I really wish I could call my mom and tell her.
I had found it and printed it out to show her because, believe it or not, the girl in it looks just like me at that age. I even had a similar bathing suit. And at the age, I kept asking Mom to show me how to make castles like that where you drizzle the sand with some water through your fingertips. I couldn’t do it; clumps would drop down like bombs onto the castle and she tried to show me again, until I’d basically do the body and she’d do the towers. I felt so triumphant the day I finally could do it myself.
Once I lost my mom, the memories and feelings the print represents has a whole other layer. Which is why this one floored me:
I don't know how I missed this one when I found the other. But there I am again, this time playing with the edge of the waves. My mom would stand in this spot while she watched us; the water would bury her feet in the sand. That fascinated me for some reason, so I'd stand there too and watch my feet disappear further and further. If I had to really pull at them to unbury, it was some kind of triumph. I don't know why. Because I stood so long? Because they were so deep, deeper than anybody around me?
I need to get this print at some point and put it next to the other. But I really wish I could call my mom and tell her.
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