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Saturday, December 13, 2003

| | | Cookies and Grandma | | |

I saw these cookies, which had fallen in a random pattern, but somehow looked ordered to me, too.

Four African-American boys were walking toward me as I snapped the pictures. I was a little nervous and definitely self-conscious. I thought for sure they'd have something to say about me taking pictures of cookies on the ground. But they didn't. They went into the school.

The cookies made me think briefly of loss, and now, thinking about it more, I walked over these cookies on the same day as my grandmother's wake. I couldn't make it to the wake, which I guess is sad, but the reality of that situation is sadder. I mean, it's more upsetting that I documented these cookies, had the impulse to document the loss of these cookies far quicker than I had the impulse to document the loss of my grandmother.

I hadn't seen my father's mother in probably close to a year. She'd become a holiday event more than anything. It's weird now that she's gone, but what's weirder is that I have trouble understanding what it means to me. Shouldn't these feelings be clear-cut and obvious? What kind of person am I that I romanticize the loss of chocolate cookies over really mourning the loss of a family member? Wow. I am such a freak.

Brian posted at 2:29 PM.
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