But––here’s a close-up from my sophomore year, serene expression disguising chaos.
And here, my brother and sister, just five years old, grinning. Eons before silver hair and lost loves.
And this––a family Christmas shot, all of us looking like we’d been sentenced to prison.
I shoved that box, still full, back into the closet.
Two years later, I drug it out again. Who was that young woman with the calm expression? Whose children, mugging for the camera? Who are those people surrounded by holiday trimmings? Ghosts, whose stories I could no longer remember.