If Life Was A Photograph

What would your memory be?

Conner sat on the couch, his eyes stared into nothingness. He felt numb. His thoughts followed his eyes. There were everywhere and still nowhere. He didn't sit like a man relaxing on the couch; he sat on the edge of the cushion, arms folded and propped up on his elbows. Eyes blank and unseeing.

He looked up at the display cabinet near the door. Ebony and glass, it stood out darkly from the rest of the room. Its dark, glossy sheen pulled his eyes too it like they were magnets. It stood over five feet tall with several regularly spaced glass shelves inside of it.

Most of the shelves contained knicknacks, little figurines or collectibles that had been introduced over the last few years. Each one held a story. The intricate corkscrew was from Faucher in Paris, the gift of an amicable serveur who deserved every Euro. There was a set of wine glasses from the Thousand Islands region of New York. Dozens of unique memories on each shelf captured forever.

Except for the top shelf. Alone sat a picture frame of silver and brass. It was unadorned except for a small filigree bell that hovered near the bottom edge. Conner stood up and slowly walked over to the cabinet and picked up the memory.

He could feel the weight in his hands, the coolness of the silver frame that heated to his touch within moments. Cradling in between his fingertips he sat back down and stared at it.

Inside of the frame there was no picture. Only a heavy piece of paper with a fine print that was neatly scribed across the parchment. Conner's eyes read the words once more and closed his eyes.

He remembered the warm church and the soft glow of candlelight. He could feel her hand in his and the way she squeezed his fingers for support. Or encouragement? The floral scent of her perfume washed over him and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anticipation. He toyed with the ring in his pocket with his free hand like an anxious child with a secret.

Conner opened his eyes and read the words once more. They were from her on their wedding day, words forever memorialized in handwriting he could never forget. His lips slowly mouthed the words that his eyes did not need to see. He knew them by heart:

My love,
I never need a picture of our wedding day because every day with you is just as exciting as the first. Know that I love you forever and that I will never forget this day or any day we spend together. I don't need fancy photographs to remind me of how special the days of our lives truly are.

Eternally yours,
Katie

He set the frame down on the couch and smiled as he remembered how she enjoyed leaning on him while they read together or watched television. He pressed his fingers to his lips and then to the glass panel of the frame. Conner felt tears like molten stone slide down his cheeks. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the folded flag on the coffee table. He picked it up and held it in his lap, still staring at the picture frame. The flag still smelled of spent gunpowder and brass.

With the crimson, blue and white flag in his lap, he sat on the couch and quietly wept.

 

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