Picture frames
the memories left behind
I take the photos down off your walls, carefully unhooking the backs to remove the prints. And there I find a treasure trove of photos across time. Each one displayed for a while, before a different one comes in front to hide them. They tell me a story of families growing up, children sprouting into adulthood and leaving you alone again. Others once thought enough of to hang on the wall, before being covered by newer images.
Pressing my hands to each photo in turn, I reminisce about when they were taken, as well as those where no photos now exist. The time you ate too much beetroot and peed purple the following day. The time we visited the circus and Dotty was asked on stage for part of the clowns' routine. The time you dragged me round every shoe shop in town searching for the perfect pair, only to end up at the shop we started in. The time we lay on the grass watching the storm soak us while we spotted shapes in the clouds. The time we went back to where we first met, trying to live it all again.
It wasn't possible. Too many things had changed. In us and there. But we didn't regret trying.
I took these down to switch them to something new, unable to stare at your face all day every day. Instead, I've found an unexpected gift of memories hidden inside. A gift I'm sure you'd never planned, but still a final memory of you I will cherish.