InleRah's Burrow

When I was a teenager, my father came to me with an old, artistic photo of my mother. He was an avid amateur photographer when he was younger. It was one of his passions. He even built a dark room in the basement of our house in Connecticut. The instance I'm referring to, however, occurred much later--long after we'd moved to Florida and the photography had given way to playing golf. Like I said, the photograph was old. My mother had to have been in her early twenties, I'd guess. She was made up, her hair done, and she was wearing a deep red dress. He'd put her into a thoughtful pose, and during development he'd clearly added some kind of filter to give the whole thing that soft, white vignette of prom or wedding photos. I stared at this photo, a bit mesmerized. I'd not seen many pictures of my mother so young, and none with that particular look in her eyes. At the time I was perhaps fourteen or fifteen, and the intensity of those eyes caught me off-guard. The wisdom that comes with distance and age allows me to say now what my younger self could not (and would never want to) have contemplated: My mother was hot for my father. I have no doubt that perhaps I (or one of my siblings) might have been conceived the night this photo was taken.
( Lots more behind the cut, including pixely art type things )