The Henna on Her Hands, Kept in a Portrait
I set up the lights in the living room, and there she was: my grandmother, today's model. It was a small portrait session at home, but she brought something to it that no light could arrange.
Not long before, we had celebrated her hundredth birthday. Twice, in fact. A hundred years after she was born, there was still henna on her hands and a smile I knew by heart.
Update, July 3, 2022: my grandmother passed away. What I want to keep close is not only this portrait, but the henna on her hands and the smile we remember.
The Days That Stayed at Home
The later photographs are from ordinary days at home. They are quieter than the first portrait, but they belong here too: a room, a white cat, a birdcage, and my grandmother inside the life she knew.
The henna on her hands is more than a detail in a photograph. It is part of how I remember her, held gently in this small collection of portraits.
BE
