Pictures make you long for what they depict. At least the pictures of my beautiful children make me long for them, even when they themselves are in the house, sleeping. I say sleeping because if they were in the house awake it’s unlikely that I would be looking at pictures of them. They would be right there, demanding my attention.
I Come home. The pitter pat of the little boy’s feet running to greet me. Little footsteps, like a dog. His calling out my name, or his name for me. Evangeline, who has been blase about these