This is me in 1981. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and I just had a long conversation with my nephew on the phone. He talked a lot about his newborn daughter for who he and his wife chose a very ridiculous name. He promised to visit us within the following months but that was a lie. The next time I saw him was in fact the funeral of my husband, a man who had five years more to live when this picture was taken.
As you can see I am wearing my favourite shirt which I got as a present from myself on a day not worth mentioning for any other reason. I am standing in front of the fence my husband and I put up the summer before. It was without any doubt the most beautiful fence in the whole neighbourhood. Behind a small gate a path lead down to the river where we used to have jour Sunday coffees on a green bench. I’d like to pretend we built that bench ourselves but in fact my husband stole it from a park close by some weeks after we moved into this house.
You might ask yourself what I am pointing at. Well, I wish I could remember.