My uncle’s friend Alice has sent me an email with old photos attached. My father and my uncle each have a beard, long hair, glasses, flannel shirt, and a serious expression. My mother smiles and rests her hand on my two-year-old head. The remarkable aspect of this photo is its existence. Its subjects are now mostly estranged, and they do not share photos or talk about that unhappy time in their lives, with each other or with me. Sometimes I feel as if I have been erased. But not today. I want to remember, and I know Alice does too.
Alison Silverman is an attorney who likes to write. She lives in Larchmont, New York.