Hilary expected laughter and family memories when she opened her grandmother’s old school album. Instead, she found Tyler’s face staring back at her from a photo taken decades before he was born.
It was an ordinary family evening, the kind that starts with too much food and ends with everyone talking over one another in the living room.
My grandma, Eleanor, had made lemon tea even though it was already warm inside the house. My mother had brought cookies from the bakery near her office, and my aunt had shown up with a stack of old photo albums she had found while cleaning the storage room.
“Careful with those,” Grandma said, tapping the top album with two fingers. “That is history.”
Aunt June laughed.
“That is dust, Mom.”
Grandma gave her a look, but there was a smile behind it.
I sat cross-legged on the carpet, balancing a mug between my hands, while my family gathered around the coffee table. We pulled out old photo albums of the Harrison family, flipping through yellowed pages, laughing at old hairstyles, and remembering stories.
My mother pointed at one photo and covered her mouth. “Oh, no. That dress.”
“You begged for that dress,” Grandma said.
