Someone Wanted To Remember

There are thousands of untold stories hanging on the walls of the antique stores, hidden in the clutter of family ties lost forever in the attic, forgotten by time or chosen to keep hidden away. Precious treasures that though can be painful to remember can bring the most beautiful story honorably beholden by the glimpse of a picture or visceral compassion by words left behind.

As a girl these stories were what consumed me as I tried to jump into the dark eyes that were cracked and stain by years of curious hands moving about the pages. My mind would wonder with thoughts of a lover holding the photography over his heart with only a thin piece of fabric to separate it from touching his chest, folded safely within the jacket that only just a layer above read "Lieutenant." Those same eyes, the ones I wanted to jump into, gazing into the eyes of man who I will never know if he came home or if this was his treasure graciously left behind from war.

The beautiful thing about this is I may never know the truth behind the picture, the color within their eyes, the feeling of the fabric that lay against their skin, the color of their hair, the sound of their voice, or the reason for their existence; but I am certain, someone wanted to remember them, and I want to too.