I remember my father handing me two photo albums and a bag of loose photographs.  He had gone through all the photos in his house after my mother died and apportioned them out to his children based on who was the primary person in the photo.  In one of the photos I am lying there, months premature, encased in a humidicrib, my eyes bandaged to protect them from the light.

-14 June 2017

This post is part of the I Remember series.