Family photos

I was practically obsessive about taking family photos – especially toward the end of Paul’s life. Like I had some sort of premonition. Unfortunately we don’t have a lot of early ones without my mother in them. She never wanted to be left out, and she always stood right up front and center. 

This first here was at the time of Paul’s graduation from grade school. The last was just a few months before he died. 

I am so fortunate to have this many. (Scroll down, there's a poem at the end.)

First Trophy

So after all

the dishes are washed

and put away

and she checks her emails

one last time

before closing her computer down,

she comes across an old photo,

a little crumpled

and faded

of her boy at age five,

her first-born son.

His blonde hair cut like

an upside-down cereal bowl

around his face,

his dark blue eyes twinkling,

his wide smile showing a gap

where his two front teeth should be,

he proudly holds up his

first soccer trophy

to the camera.

And she wonders if

she had hugged him more

would he be alive

and smiling today.