Before I Was Born

Before I was born, they looked into each others’ eyes and were overcome with pure adoration.

Before I was born, Love Story was their theme song, and it played in the background of every scene of their picture-perfect, fairy-tale love affair.
Before I was born, logic was secondary. Love made the world go round.

A proposition was made, but was immediately met with rejection. A hunger strike, torturous, painful love, and insomnia-riddled nights ensued, bringing them to the point of no return.

Then finally – families succumbed to love and there was acceptance, or at the very least, agreement. Hands were joined in a joyful, hard-earned union, and a new life began.

Now, years later, washed-out, yellowing picture prints stare back at me from the tattered pages of a bright yellow floral picture album. Pictures that give me a glimpse into who they were, and what they had.

A smile so broad it lights up the whole world, completely overshadowing the existence of anything or anyone else in the background. A hand holding a chin so lovingly it is as though that chin were made of the most fragile of porcelain, and could break with the slightest miscalculation. An embrace so filled with passion it is as though nobody in the history of the world had ever embraced before, or would ever embrace again.

In those pictures, those treasures from a past life, I see who they were – before I was born. Perhaps somewhere, some times, in spaces and moments my eyes are not witness to, they become those people again. Perhaps life has not taken it away, but has merely weathered it, making it a more durable love. A practical love. Perhaps one day I will understand and know.


One Response to Before I Was Born

  1. rodney says:


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