It's the backstories of images that get to me. This one is no different. The ending image is not the image that stays with me when I look at this one. It's the image of my (then) 10 and 11 yr old children walking through quiet Maine pines with wooden chairs atop their heads, at times obscurred from my siteline ... legs, rungs, and spindles bobbing in the air down to the shoreline, the gentle lapping of tide growing louder. Of youth going out. And age coming in.