The Past Lived Twice
In this world, then the next.
I remember the times that felt perfect.
And in those times, I knew I was experiencing the miracle of a perfect moment.
The people who were there, the lightness, the laughter, and the place-my home, the family home, where we returned again and again.
The door always open.
The sound of laughter, and music, and conversation.
I see the five of us there, our brother gray, my sisters still beautiful, boasting laugh lines and crinkles around the eyes.
The five of us, alive,
The five of us, healthy,
The five of us, happy to be in the other’s presence.
I knew each time we came together was a gift, one I wouldn’t be able to keep,
One I couldn’t take into the future.
I held those memories close, framed the photos.
I embraced you when I could, savoring the closeness of human touch,
The laughter of siblings who’d survived and could embark on a happy future despite the past.
A time of love.
The people who surrounded us had witnessed that journey and experienced their own, and there we were…
