Suzanne was flipping through her mother’s family photo albums when she saw that all of the snapshots were of a past she didn’t know anything about. The soft rustle of aged pages filled the quiet afternoon, merging with the faint scent of musty paper and lavender potpourri that lingered in the room. She had stumbled upon the albums while helping her mother tidy up the attic, a chore that had turned into a treasure hunt of memories frozen in time.
The photos captured moments from a bygone era—black-and-white portraits of her mother as a child, laughing on the beach with a girl who looked strikingly like her. In another, a large family gathering on a sunny day, everyone adorned in their Sunday best, the perfect smiles hiding untold stories beneath the surface. Suzanne squinted at the small, elegant handwriting at the bottom of one photograph, a caption that read, “Jessie’s wedding, 1963.” The name rang a bell, but it was more of an echo than a memory.
“What do you know about Jessie?” she called out to her mother, who was sorting through boxes of old clothes nearby.
Her mother paused, a distant look crossing her face, as if she had been transported back to a moment long forgotten. “Jessie was my sister,” she replied quietly. “She died before you were born. We used to be inseparable, but… life has a way of pulling you in different directions.”
Suzanne looked back at the photos, her curiosity piquing. “What happened to her?”
Her mother sighed, the weight of a thousand unspoken words filling the air. “It was a tragic accident. She was everything to me—a brilliant dancer, a dreamer, full of life. We had all these plans together. But after she was gone, I buried the memories deep. I thought it would be easier, you know?”
Suzanne’s heart ached for the lost sister, an invisible thread connecting them both. She could almost feel the joy radiating from those captured moments, the laughter and the love, overshadowed by a shadow that loomed large. “Why didn’t you ever talk about her? I feel like I’m looking at a stranger.”
Her mother took a deep breath, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Because it hurt too much, and I didn’t want to burden you with that pain. But now… maybe it’s time to remember.”
Tentatively, Suzanne turned the page, revealing a vibrant photograph of Jessie in a flowing dress, twirling joyfully in a garden filled with blooming flowers. The colors were vivid, unlike the muted tones of the earlier snapshots. “This one,” Suzanne said, pointing to Jessie, “she looks so happy. What was she like?”
Her mother smiled faintly, her expression softening. “She was a light,” she said. “She loved to dance and dream. We spent endless hours talking about our futures, and she made me promise to always pursue my passion for painting. After she passed, I put away my brushes. It felt wrong to create anything without her.”
Suzanne felt an overwhelming surge of emotion—anger, sorrow, but also an understanding that their family history was canvassed with more than just grief. It was vibrant, full of love and dreams, swept away by the tides of time. “Mom, we can remember her together. We could create something for her.”
Her mother considered this slowly, glancing over the photographs that told Jessie’s story. “Maybe it’s time I dust off my old easel.”
As they sat together, memories rekindled laughter like sunlight breaking through clouds. Suzanne reached for a larger album, filled with glossy pages that shimmered under the attic light. “Let’s start with stories, and then we can find the colors to paint her back into our lives.”
In the sanctuary of the attic, surrounded by the whispers of the past, Suzanne felt the first stirrings of a new beginning—one that wove together the threads of lost memories, love, and healing. And as her mother smiled for the first time in what felt like ages, she realized this was more than a reverie of the past; it was a promise to keep the light of Jessie alive.
Fandango’s Story Starter #169 – Facts, Fictions & Fantasies (mymindmappings.com)
Therapy Bits 
Talk to me! I love comments!