Somewhere in the boxes of photos my mother has never managed to completely sort through, there exists a series of shots I someday want to archive.
Each and every first-day-of-school morning for my entire educational career, my mother insisted on taking a picture of my brothers and me with our 'satchel and shining morning face'. It was not an option to appear in the annual photograph.
Even when I was 24 and a graduate of both university and college, my mom wanted a picture the day I headed back to university for one more course, thinking I might want to upgrade my degree.
A notable picture is the one where I'm headed into grade seven and my biggest brother is starting grade 11. My 12 year old self is so geeky and awkward but my face is shiny and excited, and I was prepared for another year of being a straight-A teacher's pet. Of course, I didn't know yet what was in store that year, the year it seems bullying was invented at Nottawasaga Creemore Central School, although we didn't call it bullying yet.
From that picture, it seems my brother might have known something about school trouble, because next to his cheery little sister's, his face is the epitome of disgust, impatience and grump. The contrast is startling. I'd love to be able to go back in time to have a conversation with him that day, to find out what was up.
The pictures not only chronicle the passage of time for my first family, but their existence also captures the optimism of my hard-working mother: no matter how many times I failed Grade 11 math, she still wanted that first-day shot.
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