Wednesday, November 19, 2008


We sat on her bed, and she showed me photograph after photograph of her in her younger years. Each one tied to a story of what once was. The further we dug into the pile, the younger she became. The less fragile, the less scared, and the less unhappy she would become as well. Until finally, a photograph of her first birthday was uncovered. She paused, there was no story to tell, you could read it in the photo. You could see how fragile, how scared, and how unhappy she was. She was a little girl, and already she was lost. She let her body fall and she laid there on my lap, still holding onto the photograph. I combed my fingers through her hair and promised her that I would do all I could to keep her safe.

No comments: