Faded Photographs

I have said for ages that my life started when I married Ron. I did not say it lightly. I did not say it in the biblical sense -- for a man shall leave his family and cleave to his wife. I really mean it. Essentially, my memories begin with Ron. My sister will mention an event and I look at her blankly. She gives surrounding details and I still don't remember.

Consider a photo album that has been through a flood. Pictures have been blurred and faded. You can pick out details if you look hard enough. You can remember the surrounding events if you spend enough time with each page. And occasionally a picture is remarkably, amazingly, astoundingly clear. The time-line is odd and disjointed. Dates come in and out in a jumbled fashion. You are young, you are old. It is yesterday, it is years ago.

My sister and I have been loosely estranged for years. The reasons will become clear as I write, I hope, I'm sure, they must. That's part of the purpose of this journey. Some things must be dealt with. Some things can't stay hidden. The question is, can the faded become clear?