Photo Album
by Kathleen Balma
This first one was taken before I knew the difference between self and sky. See how I appear to be reaching for my own hand? That white smudge of deodorant on my shirt, the one that looks like the milky way on a clear night, that’s God. He sometimes streaks by like that unannounced.
Here’s another one of me and God on a picnic. This time I’m the one who’s smeared across a surface, though I can’t remember if I’m on the blanket or if I am the blanket.
The next could either be me or my sister. I’m never sure with baby pictures, what with our matching affinities for applesauce necklaces and other minor forms of idol worship. Whoever it is, that cowlick on her forehead is definitely God. See how he’s waving at the camera?
This is one of my favorites. I had just discovered rules. What a face! I look like a wilted jack ‘o lantern. Where’s God? Oh, I forgot. He’s not in this one.
That’s my senior class at graduation. Can you tell which one is me? Nope, that’s God. I’m the one to his left. It’s hard to tell us apart sometimes, I know. We both have such a reflective presence. Sometimes when he answers the phone, people think it’s me. I even let him record the greeting on my answering machine once. It was weeks before my mother noticed. I could tell when she finally figured it out because she started leaving prayers instead of messages. She’d say things like, “Hi honey, it’s Mom. Please let the first frost be late this year. Tha-anks!”
