I have mixed feelings about October and all the hoopla around Breast Cancer month, but many of my friends were involved in being part of a live pink ribbon at Crissy Field yesterday so along I went. We were told to wear bathing suits under our clothes and at the proper moment we would disrobe and lie down on the grass, posed with our Sheex. What is a Sheex, you might ask, as did I. It is a "performance sheet." Google it. Well, I was picturing a twin-sized sheet, or maybe even a queen or a king, but these were especially made for us. I will use mine as a scarf, so here we are at Crissy Field with the fog blowing in, and the wind chill about zero, and people bundled in jackets, hats, and gloves, and wrapped in blankets and no one is feeling like stripping down to a bathing suit. I lay down fully dressed with my scarf stretched to cover me and the photographer who was up in a crane took the shot. It seems Photoshop will correct any errors such as that no one wanted to be far from the pink duffel bag they gave us to hold our clothes, so they will be Photoshopped out.
Three of my friends came with their daughters, so I found myself holding the feet of a young woman who was probably two when I met her and who is now a beautiful woman doctor in pediatrics. At my feet was a beautiful 12 year old daughter of another friend. We lay there head to toe, head to toe, head to toe, touching each other with our hands.
That was interesting but the second part was that we would each be individually photographed with our Sheex. I hate to be photographed but there we were, so, we scurried over to be first in line but the list got reversed and so we were near the end. The plan had been that we would be photographed with the Golden Gate Bridge as a back-drop but because of the cold we were inside a huge sporting goods store that used to be a commissary when the area was the Presidio. I don't do well in stores so I began to feel a little grumpy with the wait, but I did watch as the photographer did miracles with each woman. He saw something in each and touched something and each transformed. When it was my turn, he commented on my eyes, on what he saw there, the tenderness. Then, he said how loved I must be, and then, he said, how much I would be missed. I answered, "I hope so," and he said that was the answer he needed and he began to shoot.
I woke early this morning, before four, still touched, and I came to the computer and there was a photo of Zebulen's new baby, 30 seconds old. I felt like I was seeing God.