The grandmother held the faded photographs mightily in her hand, their paper frames and edges now curled brown and worn like fallen leaves.
The pictures laid fresh in her memory, like a sweet bouquet of bright uninterrupted everlasting lilacs. How sweet the memories now held so dearly, only locked up by the ravages of time and age through a decayed brain. She knew very well her cries for help faded in the soft breeze and manner of indifference for the aged.
Yet, her sharing made her young again, joined with her soul and strength to carry on. Oh, where have we been? To see that memories do not fade with age.
Memories that linger forever, if not expressed through love and kindness.
