Digging through a box of long forgotten memorabilia from yesteryear, my dad uncovered a portrait of my grandmother, his mom, amidst the clutter. Tucked in between collectible advertisement cards, wedding announcements, and school reports she had collected from distant relatives and acquaintances, her face appeared. Although somewhat strange to see the image of someone you only knew in their twilight years, upon studying the young girl’s features, the two images; the one on the photo paper and the one in my memory, began to merge into one. The little girl surely must have delighted in the whimsy of being read verse, just as I know the mature version, the woman I knew, eagerly constructed her own thoughts into rhyming sonnets on paper.
It truly makes me wonder if my love of writing is deeply encoded inside my genetic makeup, passed on from her and many others before her. I can tell you the little girl I was, enjoyed a rhythmic verse and well-crafted story, just as the woman I am today finds purpose in linking relevant words into sentimental stories.
Take a minute to reflect on some commonalities you share with family, and remember, you wouldn’t be here without their first traversing through life!
Lovely photo and thoughtful writing. I just finished a post on an early photo of my father and it was one of the most pleasing ones I have written. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you! I love old photos too and will be sure to check out the one of your father.
spare, reflective and wise. beautifully told. tony
Thank you, Tony!