My mother-in-law is going to kill me, but I love this photo because it is so real. This is the EARLY morning after Thanksgiving. My son, who is 8 months old, has the entire house up at some ungodly predawn hour, just as he has all week. We are tired and not fully functioning, so we do what we always do. Daddy reads the newspaper from cover to cover, Grandma does the crossword and sudoku puzzles. I watch, eat, talk, and take pictures. We rely on our routines, our schemas, in the absence of mental clarity, and also because the familiar feels good. The familiar is home. That is beautiful and so is this picture.
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