When I die he will find them
Decades of my life
Stored in shoe boxes upstairs
Hundreds of captionless photos tucked in envelopes
Slides stacked neatly in folding Kodak boxes
Captured by a cheap camera
In eager hands
They illustrate the stories
That have largely gone untold
The forces of my life
That sanded me smooth on the inside,
Carved on the surface
Experiences of a young woman
Seeking adventure
And a place at the world’s table
When he finds them
He will see a younger me
With unnamed friends and unnamed lovers
Unnamed mountains
Unnamed rivers
Smiling
He will see walruses basking on rocks,
But not hear their music
Cabins, but not fee their warmth
Trails, but not know their destinations
My stories will die with me
Melding into the ethos
He will never know my joy
My youthful dreams
My pain and disappointments
The person before Mother
The me before you him
photos by the author
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