Looking

I really did it for myself anyway. Pulling pics out of photo albums that date back to 1984--ones that he was in. Pics which I could see him in and remember what 100% looked like and felt like. I squished into the chair beside him, and showed them to him. I had the stupid magic idea that he’d see himself and things would clear up like the fog of amnesia lifting. He said, “That’s your brother.” I said, “No, that’s you.” He said, “Who’s that? Becca?” “No, it’s Olivia.” He remembered lots of things, but not, I guess, what it was like to see through those eyes in the pictures. “Thanks for showing me those,” he said.