Sunday, November 16, 2008


When old pictures unexpectedly come your way of someone who is gone they bring with them both the joy of discovery, along with a sharp grief at the staleness and lifelessness of the image, when all you want is the real thing. Looking at this smiling lady, memories poured in until I could taste and touch them. Then they lingered. They followed me to bed. They follow me still.

While the treasure was passed around the table I stole glances at my mom and aunt; their eyes fixed on the photo of their mother. If I hurt, what are they feeling?