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<slowly step aboard yacht... weary after a long day at work... take plate of prepared food and glass of wine on tray from refrigerator... sit in entertainment center... begin eating>
...the box is here somewhere... I push up sleeves, prepare to do battle with the accumulation of 50, 60? years worth of memories...keepsakes, bric-a-brac... can still see a chenille bedspread, doilies and the edges of braided rugs between the stacks and piles of...memories... in what used to be a room for guests
Ah, this is the box. I sift through albums, folders, envelopes..
I see you... there is a tear at the edge of the paper, stains. You are presented to me in shades of cream and brown..sepia. It does not represent nor become you, this disguise would never be able to fool me...so full of life, only a rainbow will do
Your hair has been crimped into ringlets...Shirley Temple?... your dress starched... you stand with siblings, similarly scrubbed, starched, slicked, posed... you stand on ciders in front of the tenement...
better things will come along...better things will come
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