I must be three or four years old in this picture. It was taken by my grandmother, out in her front yard. I spent so many warm summer days there, splashing through the sprinkler or climbing the big cherry blossom tree. In this picture I’m eating a popsicle; I remember listening intently for the tinkling music of the ice cream man, and then finally screaming with delight when he finally drove around the corner. My grandma would fish through her change jar for dimes and quarters, and I would race out the front door and down the driveway, wincing at the pain the gravel inflicted on my bare feet.

The dog in the picture is a chocolate lab named Yaz (named after the Boston Red Sox MVP Carl “Yaz” Yastrzemski- they named all of their pets after baseball players). In the photo his back comes up to my little waist; I remember loving the front end of this dog, and being terrified of the whacks given by the whip attached to his back end. Yaz had wanderlust, and we would often find him trotting down the street, blocks from home, his pink mouth widened into a huge grinning pant. My grandma was afraid of the dogcatcher, and I remember he would drive slowly down the street, calling and whistling to any unsuspecting pups lounging out in their front yards. My grandma would close all of the windows and blinds, and perch silent and nervous on the couch. I would lay on the living room floor with my arms around Yaz, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement, convinced we were outlaws banded together in a delicious conspiracy against the bad guys.

I miss those lazy, innocent summers, when the days lasted as long as years and the summer months stretched out in front of you long and golden, September an infinity away. My days now are broken up, choppy. I’m always thinking about what’s about to happen next. You blink an eye and a month has gone by. Take a breath and you’ve lost a year already. It bewilders me sometimes when Babs falls apart, missing her daddy and not seeming to understand me when I tell her he’ll be home at dinner time. When I look at that picture and see myself at the age she is now, I realize that she actually understands me perfectly. In her world, a thousand little adventures will take place between now and dinner time and the day’s end is a lifetime away. Maybe it would be a good idea to keep this picture out where I can see it all the time. Perhaps if I try to remember what it was like to be the little girl me, it will help me understand these bundles of sugar and spice who call me their mommy.

This month’s Self Portrait Tuesday theme is “Personal History”. To see more self portraits, go to the Self Portrait Tuesday blog.