A place to gather my musings on life. A collection of slips and scraps of creative writing (short essays, poems and micro-stories) and the smartphone images that serve as inspiration.
Thursday, April 4, 2019
56 Years Later
She had lots of friends and lots
of fun times. They would have been great memories now. You know that.
Knew that. Knew all about
the friends, the parties, the clothes
and the ski trips. You heard
the stories and maybe even remembered some.
But still. You look at this photo
and you don't know anything or
anyone or even know any stories
about this trip to Alpbach,
which is in Austria, but you don't know that,
the way you don't know
her. Not your mother, but just her.
Oh you know some of it: know that she was thirty-two
and beautiful. She had a husband
who made everyone laugh and she was
loved. She had children who aren't yet really
a part of this story. That would be you.
Not a part of the story of Alpbach. You were not yet
the centre. But you know
of course, you know that you never were.
But somehow. You think of her and see
you. Not her, but you and she is peripheral
and slightly blurry like the corners
of a photo. And you wonder.
And you will keep wondering.
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