There was this day a long time ago, I think I was seven. Everyone was happy. Everyone got along and My grandpa was still alive. My whole family was together at my grandma's house. Before all the blame, all the she said this. Before CPS and finger pointing. When everyone was happy. They had brought in a photographer for the day to take family pictures. The photographer took pictures of each of the 'kids' families on Grandma's great stone fireplace. Then he took pictures of the 'kids' with Grandma & Uncle Darold & Grandpa. The pictures from that day turned out perfectly and each kid proudly displayed their families' portrait in a frame in a prominent place in their home. And everyone was happy.
My grandma has no recollection of this day.
When going through some pictures with my mom at her new place, they came across the one taken of the sisters. "The Sisters" were quite the bunch. A force to be reckoned with. Each one louder and more animated than the next. Together they were scary. They spurred each other on. They were Best friends. This would be the last time "the sisters" would be in a picture together without there being a family breaking fight. Grandma looks at the picture and says, "Oh! When was this taken? I don't remember this." My mom does her best, "Remember, Mom? We had everyone there that day? He took pictures of all us?" But Grandma doesn't remember and Mom is sad so she changes the subject.
My mom told me this story yesterday. After thinking about it for awhile, I wondered why Grandma would remember it. It's been almost exactly 20 years since those pictures were taken. Shortly after that our family fell apart and now no one talks to anyone else. Blame, finger pointing, disapproval. It's been a life time since that picture was taken.
Even I don't remember the sisters in the portrait.