Self-portrait

This is what I remember. 

My grandmother’s hands, covered in scratches after she had been pruning the roses. Their house was a large one, but you always knew where she was: she whistled hymns while walking about.

My first real camera. 

I took a photo, black and white, of my grandparents, standing together at the back of the house, holding hands. I developed the print and sent her a copy. She thought her hands in the photograph made her look old, older than she was. She was not a vain woman, so the comment surprised me, but there’s a reason for shooting portraits in soft focus.

This is my hand and, yes, it makes me look very old.