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Countless times I’ve seen this same old binder
The same old deep maroon with gold coloured embroideries.
For so many years, laying within my grasp,
The same old plastic pages,
Each holding three photos per side,
Each holding the same old photos,
The same old memories of the past.
I know them all so well, until a point….
I stumble upon that picture again.
A sofa with four people,
The setting in a small living room,
On the small sofa I sit laughing it seems, in a small white dress
I’m just a baby, no less
About one or two I guess.
On my left is a light skinned woman,
From India no doubt,
Garbed in traditional attire,
My loving Mother, who I know so well.
On the other side of the sofa sits a familiar boy,
Dressed in a sailor looking attire,
About a year older than I,
My older brother who I know so well.
Between us sits a man,
Dark brown skin with wrinkles about,
Fairly old man with a short silver-white beard,
Eyes covered by the glare of the camera flash on his big glasses,
A stern ordinary frown between his well kept beard and moustache.
Dressed neatly in a white button down with pale pink stripes,
Dark grey slacks cut into squares by criss-crossing pale pink lines,
Either tucked in or held up by a brown belt.
The looks of a loose, round, small belly,
Boney fingers, arms and legs,
The usual look, for an old man, that plays checkers in the park.
Pretty much bald on the top of the head,
A receding hair line that leaves an empty ‘U’ patch.
In his left hand resides a small black camera, resting on his lap
His right arm about my brother.
I have been told the stranger is titled “Nana” in my culture and language,
My Mother’s Father…so I’ve been told.

Each picture holds a memory,
Each has a story to tell,
No matter how hard I look in this one,
I seem to can’t tell what this one’s is.
Countless times I’ve seen this photo,
Countless times I find myself thinking about it.
Each photo has a meaning to me,
Some more than others,
This one in particular means everything yet nothing.
I’ve sighed many times and passed on by,
But still the emotions dwell,
Residing deep with in my heart….
“How can you have this control over me
Oh stranger I’m suppose to know,
Can you please tell me?
How can one be plagued by someone they’ve never met or seen?”
I ask my self these questions all the time.
This lonely gap with in my heart,
It can only ache and it seems to grow,
All because of an absence I yearn to fill.
“A picture is a worth a thousand words”
Why do my thousand words resonate hollowly,
Telling of loneliness, a yearning to know what I forgot.
Anyone can say I’m happy in the photo no doubt,
But it is an empty happiness for me,
It has no reason or meaning.
Just a yearning to know this relative I see.
Like a bird wishing to fly,I leap for a try,
But plummet to the ground because of my clipped wings.
It means so much yet nothing at all.
I love you yet hate you,
I know you yet don’t.
Does that make any sense?
Or am I just rambling?
Confusing, conflicting emotions,
Swirling, swelling with in.
Like a grounded bird,
Since I can not fly
And I only know the way of the heavens above,
I have lost my way.
I don’t cry easy, but here you are,
Oh dearest stranger,
Causing these crystalline drops to fall from my eyes.
Everyone else knows…why can’t I?
I miss you but can’t,
I never really met you.
Is it my punishment to wander in the dark forever?
For a sin,
The sin of wanting to know you?
This little photo,
Of this one man,
Means so much,
Yet nothing at all,
Superseding the value of all other photos that have “true value.”

I have seen your face so many times,
Still can’t remember anything.
Like bird told to fly away but have clipped wings,
I can never truly soar.
Yes, I’m grounded,
Got my wings clipped,
I’m surrounded,
By all this pavement.
But that is how it supposed to be I guess…I was never meant to soar.
I still can’t believe all the years,
Spent in ignorant bliss as a child….

As young girl, it never really occurred,
To ask about my Mother’s parents.
I was content, I guess,
With the smiling faces of my Father’s parents
Or so…consciously I did….
I still remember all the dreams of me crying,
Crying for one thing, always the same thing,
Crying to go see this man known as “Nana” to me,
I’d always wake up with that tear stricken face.
I always saw and heard the kids talk and walk with their Mother’s father,
Telling the class of their kindness and joy
I see now though,
I was ignorant and secretly wanted to know.
Like trying to find that cool present,
The one a Mother usually hides on their child’s birthday.
I wanted to find the present
The hidden love of my Nana with in.
I actually had ask if he has that title or not in my culture and language!
I see now, that I yearned for him then,
Just like I do now….
I see them all the time,
In the park or in the mall,
Anywhere and everywhere they all are.
I see myself in them, the little ones,
I see myself when I was in my childish ignorant bliss.
But they have I what I did and do not,
They have their Nana,
Oblivious of their ultimately grand luck.
I do sometimes envy them and their luck,
But I then pray for it to be forever this way for them.

All you little young souls all over the world,
You take it for granted now,
But you soon will learn.
You’ll learn of their true importance,
Besides all the candies, cookies, ice cream, and toys,
You’ll realize then how much they mean.
I do pray you learn quickly and appreciate soon.
So you can end up happier than I.
I still wake up form the same dreams,
I still have the same tear stricken face that I hide.
Hopefully it will dawn upon,
When you look back at the photos and memories,
That they are to be cherished dearly
From beginning to end, Dawn till dusk.
Unlike I who sadly can not….
As a child, you innocently and ignorantly will believe time is forever,
But you will then see; it will be gone in a flash.
Unlike I who can not,
You will be able to say “I love you”
You will be able to remember their value, unlike my fake value.
You will think of you ignorance when you reflect,
You will laugh at your naivety of your beliefs on eternity.
Hopefully you will see, the importance they hold,
All the meaning, love, and truth they carry.
And also remember
Eternity with them can truly be
If you hold them dear
Cherish them greatly and never forget like me,
Holding them close at heart the times shared,
You eternity with them
Will be, forever lasting, in your memory.

-Sicone