Photo Finish

The cool nights of autumn have definitely arrived and, for whatever reason, I find myself thinking of the past. Maybe it's the fleet of yellow school buses or the excitement of a new school year for so many kids. But mostly, I think, it's because my brother died a few Septembers ago. Whenever I see fields of soybeans turning yellow prior to harvest, I am reminded of him.

I have a photo of Steve taken a couple of months before he passed away, and it haunts me still. In my version of a perfect world that last image of him simply doesn't fit.



Photo Finish


I possess a picture of my brother
too painful to place in an album:

a once full face
now like an apple doll's,
collapsed inward

a weary smile
to oblige the photographer

a winter sweatshirt
worn over faded blue jeans
in mid-July heat.

Not wanting to stash it away
nor willing to expose it

I slipped it back into its envelope
and kept it on my table
as if Snapfish could refinish the photo,
recover a healthy image,
stem the flood threatening my eyes.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor