I always went to people’s houses and envied their families
Analyzed the smiling faces staring from black frames on white
walls
Pack your swirling emotions snugly into a shiny rectangle
No one argues with a pretty picture wrapped in silver
I’d like to hang a photo of my husband holding me when I am
cold
A photo of him doing my laundry or baking my favorite
pumpkin bread
When I cried for no reason and he consoled me with hugs and
soft kind words
I wish someone had snapped those shots.
Because looking at those photos would fill my heart with
love.
And I don't know if a wooden frame could contain them.
Family is a feeling.
