You are standing,
straight and tall,
your plain cotton
dress
accentuating your
slender figure.
Your younger sister
stands beside you
on the sidewalk
along F Street, Northwest
in Washington,
DC. The two of you
had gone into the
city on your own,
without your
parents—two teenage girls
in town on a
beautiful spring day.
You are looking
straight at the photographer.
Your wide smile and
your eyes remind me
of how open and
trusting you were,
qualities that too
many of us perhaps lose
too soon, or that diminish
in our cynicism—
qualities that, I
admit that as I grew up,
made me think of
you as dependent on others—
your husband, your
brothers, your younger sister,
who, in the photo,
stands at your side,
her body positioned
at a slight angle,
between you and the
photographer,
no smile, eyes
narrowed, one leg in front
of the other as if
ready to move.
But, it is you that
keeps drawing my eye,
and not just
because I am thinking of you
now that you are
gone (though I am).
It is because in
this scene you embody
the way we should
present ourselves to the world.
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