I was only sixteen when they made me remember my childhood; the sterile, white walled interview room haunted me ever after. I lived a long life, but I died too soon to ever forget it.
The two sisters, as young girls, braided each others hair, borrowed sweaters, met boys at dances, and shared endless secrets, dreams, hopes and fears.
The two old sisters, both now widowed, wash each others hair, borrow sweaters, visit their husband’s graves, share a lifetime’s memories, griefs, and experiences and, while holding hands, enjoy the sunset of their lives.
“Please don’t break up with me,” Gary begged with big, brown puppy-dog eyes. “I love you.”
A part of Allison – however small – wished she had the capacity to love him right now while he was here with her to be loved, but she was well aware that her infatuation with all things past meant she would come to love him several years from now, by which time he would be completely out of reach.