This week in Susannah's class we're exploring memories in photos, both good and bad, and looking at ourselves the way we were. I began sorting through a box of old photos, searching for something that sparked an especially strong memory, when these fell out of an envelope.
There are two things in my past that cause me intense rage to talk about. One of them is my years at Lutheran school. Above, scattered across the lawn, are the faces of some of the worst people I've ever met in my life; my tormentors, my bullies, my attackers, and the teachers who watched it happen and did nothing.
I sometimes wonder why I keep them. I could easily use them for kindling and make a lovely fire to warm my hands. But I don't think I could do that to the girl whose photo is on every sheet. It was her battle and she survived it, and I owe it to her to remember. Me. The girl in the black pants and the chunky shoes with a leaf on the toe, standing in her yard on a windy day in March.
