Dear Diary,
I remember when the memories started to fade. I remember when I could no longer recall the look of pride in my father’s eyes when I achieved something great. I remember when I could no longer recall the tenderness of my mother’s touch. I remember when I could no longer recall the feeling of worry and apprehension when my brothers fought in the war.
But as I glance at these next moments in time, I remember:
I remember the day we made our way down to Niantic. I remember the slight winds blowing my dress about as I took a walk with my father. I remember the crinkles in his eyes whenever he smiled. I remember the feeling of safety I felt whenever I was with my brothers. I remember the feeling of oblivious giddiness as I played with my sisters. I remember the beautiful melodies we created as a family in the south parlor. As I look at this photograph of photographs I remember all the days made happy and so much more.
Yours Truly,
Frances McCook
