On my 72nd birthday, with Camilo and Marina

It was windy and rainy. It was wet and ugly but I had to take the photograph that marks my yearly journey into one more year. Except that this day I did not take the self-portrait. My son did it as he appears holding the cable-release that works the camera shooting mechanism. He had just come from school on Friday afternoon and his sister and I had been waiting for him to come home. To comply with the silly ritual, in appearance, of standing in front of a camera under the rain to register how the years keep on turning my former dark hair whiter by the day.