Illness update: Daniel was still running a slight fever of over 100 this morning when he woke up, but he wanted to go back to school today, so we let him. Tab and Matthew are feeling better but Stephen is still feverish and coughing.

Family Portrait

On Display Collaboration

The best illustration of my life at the end of the year 1999 would be a picture of our family. Unfortunately, we don't have a recent family portrait. It's one of the hazards of having a husband who is a professional photographer; we have lots of great pictures Tab has taken of the boys and me, but none of all of us together. So I'll have to describe for you the picture I have in my mind, a portrait of the five of us: my husband, our three sons, and me.

Tab and I are posed in the center of the photograph, sitting side by side on the well-worn grey couch in our living room. My hair is pulled back behind my head, clasped into a flat ponytail, all except for my bangs, which are still only chin-length. I rarely look in the mirror, so I'm blissfully unaware of the smudge of flour on my chin from my breadbaking earlier in the day. My one concession to vanity is that I have removed my glasses before posing. I hate the way the photosensitive lenses darken in pictures. Nearly out of frame, on the end table next to the couch is the novel I'm currently reading. It has been sitting there, untouched, since I brought it downstairs with me this morning. I'll carry it back upstairs with me tonight; the only opportunity I have for leisure reading these days is at bedtime.

Four-year-old Matthew is on my lap, nestled against my chest. It is the only way he would consent to be in the picture at all. His head is turned away from the camera, his face half hidden face in my shirt. He is clutching Ferdie the bull, one of his stuffed animals, close to him.

Sitting next to me on my left is Matthew's twin, Stephen, smiling into the camera. His whole face lights up when he smiles, his eyes crinkled into crescent shapes. His hair, like Matthew's, is overdue for a cut. One wayward lock curls over his forehead.

Tab is sitting on the other side of me, his arm around my shoulders. His hair is rumpled, as is his grey chamois shirt. He is smiling his usual friendly, open smile, the one that he bestows upon department chairmen and university custodians alike.

Tab's right arm is curled around six-year-old Daniel, who is leaning in toward his father. The camera's flash has caused Daniel's blond hair to appear even lighter than it really is. He is wearing a dark green turtleneck shirt, which has suddenly become almost too short for his lengthening torso. His long, skinny blue jean-clad legs dangle out of the frame of the picture.

Daniel is not smiling, which is a good thing because just a few seconds before, he had been doing his fake smile, a ridiculously exaggerated grin. Instead, he looks pensive, his gaze somewhere above and past the camera. He's probably thinking about the K'Nex project he's currently working on. As soon as the sitting is over, he will be racing upstairs to get back to work.

And that's a glimpse of us, a portrait of me and my family at the end of the 90s.

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