I sit with a small box of memorabilia on my lap. It’s been forever since I looked at my old photographs. Mainly because I am always being hunted and never have I been able to stay at one place for one year at a time but now, after more than a century and a half of running, I am finally beginning to settle down.
“What are you looking at?” My fiance, Robert, peeks at the photograph in my hand. He is one of two people who knows my secret.
I show him the picture and chuckle. “Just an old picture of my family.”
It is one of the few pictures I still have of my family. I remember sitting for this picture when I was just a babe, staying still on my mother’s lap for duration of the picture, and by the time the photograph got developed, my mother turned out frowning from impatience. She was not a patient woman.
“Are those your grandparents and sisters in the middle?” Robert asks.
“Yes,” I sigh. “My grandmother was ill when the picture was taken. She died about a month after. I don’t remember much other than going to her funeral. Grandfather followed, shot himself in the head with a pistol.”
“I’m sorry.” Robert rubs my back and I lean against his broad shoulder.
“He just wanted to be with her.” I place the picture back in its place and look around the room. Boxes stack high in the corner. How the time has changed!
I stand up. “Where are you going?”
I look back at Robert, raising my eyebrow, “Well, these boxes won’t unpack themselves.” He just rolled his eyes.