Can a Writer’s Notebook be in the form of a photo journal?
It makes sense to me. Let’s give it a try and see.
* Note: This is one of the released items that schools and families in many states are using for practice.
Just a few photos that may have the power to guide a slice. Now which one shall I choose?
How can I not share, First dog?
“Meet Dakota.” That was the note I wrote on the bottom of this photo that I sent in the mail to my parents shortly before summer break in 1977. A week later the phone rang. My dad. “Have you taken the time to look at the size of this puppy’s paws?!” “Yes dad.” And from there the conversation revolved around the expense of caring for big dogs but was broken up with a lot of laughter. He tried to sound firm but I knew he couldn’t wait to meet her.
I clearly remember the 4 hour drive home; it was challenging in several ways. It was hot and we were in a VW bug that barely ran. The windows were open and the music was blaring as we puttered down the highway with the wind in our ears. She was in heaven. I was nervous.
That summer back home began uneventful until, “Who ate the heal of my new shoe?” Ugh, “Sorry mom.” “Who chewed this hole in the middle of the carpet?” Ugh, “Sorry dad.” I silently pleaded with her to be good for just a few more weeks.
But then the big one happened. It was the first time everyone was going to be gone and she would be home alone. I tied her outside on the run my dad hooked up for her in the shade of a tree, near the screened in porch. She had plenty of water and chew toys. She looked happy. She looked content. My sister and I left.
An hour or so later we drove up our short driveway and were relieved to see Dakota sitting there still looking happy, still looking content. A big, enthusiastic, “Good Dog!” from me. She wagged her tail. She looked so proud. As I walked around the corner of the house I stopped short and gasped at the sight in front of me. Almost every single panel of screening was flapping in the wind like the curtains of that Wyeth painting. “OH MY GOD!” my sister screamed. Dakota wagged her tail some more and licked my face. We were screwed.