Observant on Day One

Observant at a very young age, I was particularly interested in my toes.

I am nothing if not observant. I had to be, growing up in an irrational house, where, at any moment, the sublime could morph into the profane — and where a loved one could change so much overnight. It’s no mistake I became a photographer, always observing, looking for the inconsistencies in human behavior and ready for any turn of events, no matter how unlikely they might be. Irony and synchronicity are not lost on me. And, when I think about it, my attraction to these details was preordained.

My mother had one ovary. And her gynecologist told her she would never have children. This was before fertility clinics, surrogates, and in vitro fertilization. This was also as ill-informed as the mid 20th century could get. My parents tried for three years before my mother became pregnant. Nine months later, working together, my mother and I proved that doctor very wrong.

But as mom and dad entered the hospital elevator on their way to my debut, who should be standing there but the very doctor who told her she would never have children. I was there, but I didn’t see his reaction. Yet, somehow, it stayed with me.

Originally published at outtacontext.com.