Picture Day, First Grade
This photo still evokes in me,
forty-five years later, a frail
sorrow–the little girl wanting
only to get it right, to do it well.
The arched rainbow design
on the dress I picked myself.
The hair disheveled as always
because mom left for work so early
and dad claimed no skill at hairdos.
My tooth missing, my smile unsure,
unconvincing. Sometimes when
I can’t sleep, I look at that photo
in my mind’s eye and whisper,
“You’re doing great. Nothing
you are doing is wrong. I love you.”
It’s nice to imagine little me
hearing that future me thinks of
this day so often, how I didn’t
understand why I felt so wrong.
Standing in the gymnasium,
waiting my turn to be photographed,
the thin black comb they handed out
only to the kids who had
something to fix.
*
Julie Barton is the New York Times Bestselling author of Dog Medicine, How My Dog Saved Me From Myself (Penguin, 2016). She publishes a poem every day at juliebarton.substack.com and can be found online at juliebarton.com. Her poems have appeared in The South Carolina Review, Caduceus, Art Place at Yale Medical School.