Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

Yesterday, an innocuous brown box arrived at the house. There was no name, so I opened it figuring it was a 50% chance of being mine.

I was right. Inside I found a package from my brother – a very large handful of photos he had found when he was packing to move. I was delighted and quickly plopped down to flip through, hoping to find a gem.

I found multiple gems.

First, I found several baby/toddler pictures of me. Some I remember seeing before, others were new. One took my breath away.

This was the time when we were the happiest, I think. My Dad had a secure job, my Mom had recovered her health, they bought our house in West Mifflin. Things got tough when I turned four, but were still decent. The worst day lay ahead, but we didn’t know that of course.

The sweetness of these images warms my heart. I felt so much love from my parents, feelings they could express to young children that simply felt less frequent as we grew older.

A few from my school days. Here is the back of the heads of my girl friends playing pass the apple. It looks quite risque now.

Readers know I consider this my personal archive as well as community archive. I write so often about my childhood, that I wanted to put some images here as well. I feel a sense of completion with these photos – many of our family photos were destroyed when we were young and the rest lost when my parents gave up their house. The few I have are precious.

But this is my favorite photo. It represents my relationship with my brother now – reaching out and barely touching, trying to transfer energy, a connection that transcends all of our differences. A special sibling bond that I’ll never let go of in my heart.

It is lovely to look back at sweet moments from early days. I always hoped I’d look ahead to my next chapter with anticipation of good times and more sweetness, more kindness. I don’t know if that will happen.

I also hope to use these and other photos to piece together the story of my early years a little more clearly.