She could have been beautiful if it weren't for her madness; those striking blue eyes staring out into some place of her making. They said I looked like her once while at a family reunion, then suddenly they looked at each other and began drinking their tea,their noses buried in their cups.
My grandmother spent most of her adult life in mental wards, the only one visiting her was my grandfather. He remembered the love. He held onto the love. When he died, which was some forty years after she did, I found among his things this photo of her and ten letters written to him by her during the war. In her letters I see behind the sparkling haunting eyes....a rush to love while there was still light.
A bit rusty....but here's my Magpie # 70