"Hi Annie, you look great today!"
"Thanks, I got my hair cut Wednesday." Annie was a shy person so it was great to see her try something new. Style baffled me and still does, always changing and reshaping by the decade and so I try not to judge anyone. Annie had new bangs swept across her forehead and her hair bumped up behind it. The whole thing was hairsprayed and stiff but that's just how they liked in the 1960's. "Wanna take a picture?" I got a nod in reply and that's exactly what we did.
The photo reflected the sunlight streaming through the window and I allowed myself a small smile. Looking up at the room I found an empty spot on the wall. I taped it to the ivory painted walls and backed away, savouring the memories that filled the room. Paintings and photos hung around the room, all depicting a loved one that I had out-lived. Centuries of friends and husbands and pets that I wanted to remember, needed to remember. Then, in the corner of the room, a photo album bound in leather. I knew the man that crafted it actually, his photo is here too. I would never let go of that photo album, it was more important than this entire room. It held part of my identity, part of who I am, it held all my photos I have of my family. My mother, my father, my sister and everyone, even my great grandmother May.
And so I smiled a small, grieving smile as I walked out of the room.
