I have always known
that our relationship
is different than that
she has with her
other daughters
but I’ve never been
able to pinpoint why.

But I was going through
a box of old pictures
and came across one
of her own mother
sitting in our living room,
a foreign arrangment
that I barely recall from
my younger years.

I never met her.
She was gone
almost immediately
after I had come.
Looking down at
that photograph
I think I finally

When I came in,
she went out.

It would be hard to
look me in the eye, too,
if when you think about
my arrival
you immediately recall
her goodbye.


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