Bless her heart, but I just didn’t enjoy seeing all your faces from all the years hanging from a wash line and staring out at me every day. I was afraid I’d begin not to see them, because they were always there. I didn’t want to have fleeting glimpses of your faces as I passed them, back and forth from room to room, and I wasn’t able to stand for long enough to look at them all before I’d get tired and need to sit. And I couldn’t see them clearly from my chair in the living room, as they were hanging rather high up and were tiny because they were school photos. I want to study your faces. I want to concentrate on them, at specific times, in quiet worship, like at a church service, and then have silent conversations with each of you. This is one of my favorite activities. I like, from time to time, to go to my bedroom after supper and take out my photo album and sit up in my bed, with my comfortable pillows and a cup of coffee and perhaps a Cuban Lunch or a Nutty Club on my bedside table, and stare hard at the photos, at each one of you, very slowly turning the pages until I get to the end. I don’t want to do that every day, just once a month or so.