Who would say

Hard yellow light bled through the sky, and the world became nostalgic. Even the road looked dimmer, darker, more burnt sienna. The tall sky had been built with layer upon layer of dense color, each blending to give an illusion of blue. But the fancy lasted only a moment. I felt transported inside a breathing photograph. It was unsettling.

It made me think of age. I was once a child, now an adult, and one day a memory. I wondered who was left to pull this old photograph out of a family album, stare at my form, linger over the inconsequential elements of road, corn, and peeling sky. That’s what she looked like, long ago, they would say. But who would say? There was no photographer to capture the isolation, breathe in the heat, feel the listlessness, the sorrow. The photograph, if there were one, would be of me, and it was only inside my head, where it would stay. The corners would curl, the colors would fade, and I would be the only one who would ever say, remember when?

2 thoughts on “Who would say

  1. What a lifetime of memories! It must be amazing to go through them all. Remember when…. I have so few photos of growing up, but those photographs evoke such strong feelings of moment-by-moment history.


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