One of my more recent habits is taking pictures. Specifically taking pictures of my feet.
My one and only tattoo is on the top of my foot. TheFish and I got matching ones last winter, shortly after LittleBrother died.
The placement of the tattoo was a subject of much discussion. It was important that we get it in the same place, a place that we could see, a place that would change much with age or child-bearing. We originally thought to get them on our ankles, but our ankles are small and the design ended up being to large to look the way we wanted. So I tattooed the top of my bony foot. It hurt like a bitch. The tattoo artist, a colorful character named Robbie, later confessed that the only place he doesn't have a tattoo is the top of his foot. It is apparently more painful that a face tattoo... or more intimate areas.
So now I take pictures of my feet... at the lake, in the sand at the beach, the grass at TheFish's graduation, etc. Sometimes my feet are alone, sometimes TheFish's tattoo is pictured too. She humors this habit of mine, bur doesn't seemed compelled to do the same.
I think that part of me likes to think of it as a tangible sign that LittleBrother is always with me. That maybe, he isn't missing out by not being here. That I won't ever forget. Maybe I'm not slowly losing him... a prospect almost as devastating to me as the shock of suddenly losing him last year.
I'm really afraid of forgetting. Sometimes I can't quite picture his face anymore. Its just a little fuzzy, like the days I forget my glasses and have to squint to see things at a distance. I feel guilty about that. It hasn't even been a year. What kind of sister am I? How could I have lost focus already?
The irony of this all, of course, is that my brother would never agree to participate in the beach days and kayaking trips that I mentally drag him along on.