Fingerprint Friday was started by Beki, at The Rusted Chain. It was inspired by the song by Steven Curtis Chapman that contains the line…”when I look at you, I can see the fingerprints of God.” To participate and/or visit all of the blogs that participate, go to the Fingerprint Friday post on Beki’s blog and follow the instructions.
Not long ago a green anole lizard came to visit. He limited his visit to the screened, back porch, where he seemed to be content snacking on a few insects that had found their way onto the porch as well.
He looks so big and ferocious in this photo but he was actually very cute and rather small. Here’s another shot:
As for Alan, the boy, I never saw him again and don’t recall whether or not I was devastated that he was not waiting on the porch of the cottage as promised the next year. My guess is that my parents had already prepared me for a disappointment. A lot can happen in a year. Apparently, it was not too traumatic for me when he didn’t show, because I realize now, that if not for Alan, the lizard, it is likely that I would not even remember the name of Alan, the boy.
I guess in the early 60’s, in those still innocent days before “make love, not war” and similar campaigns, Alan, the lizard, actually, held much more fascination for a thirteen year old about to enter high school, than Alan, the Greek god-looking boy. As it turns out, I don’t need a photo or even the appearance of a green anole on my porch, to remember those tiny, dark eyes and those cute, little toes that tickled as they scampered up my arm. But Alan, the boy, I barely remember him at all. I remember only what can be deciphered from an old and not so clear, photo of a darkly tanned boy in a lifeguard chair and a really skinny girl, wearing a two piece bathing suit, with a great tan, who is standing below, looking up. If one could move the camera in a bit, it’s possible that you might see stars in her eyes.
When we are thirteen, every day is filled with drama. I feel certain that my drama for that day was imagining I was in love with this older boy and dreaming that someway, somehow, we would live happily ever after. Oh, the fairy tales that teenage hormones write! I know with some certainty that I must have been deeply in love. Not because I remember it, but because that is the way it is with thirteen year old girls and handsome older boys. That girl in the photo, would not have believed me at all, if I could have tapped her on the shoulder to tell her this truth: one day, this deeply dramatic and emotional moment, along with all other such moments of that two weeks, would fade into a fragile memory that would be lost forever, if not for an old photograph and the delightful memory of a tiny, green lizard!