I do not see myself in her eyes at all.
instead, I see a sadness that evokes far deeper wounds than mere circumstance.
altho none of us visibly favors our mutual father (save Mitchley’s hands) it is her sadness that makes her resemble him most of all.
she managed some smiles but they seemed to have been mustered from a happy place she never knew or had lost hope of long ago.
she has worked hard to get what she has and seems to earn it in a manual labor type job that seems far beneath someone with the dainty nose and slight chin of a princess.
she has experienced pain–her body and her heart.
she has felt abandon.
she has suffered loss–a recent one still evokes tears.
her daughter–born while she was very young–seems to comptise the little hope she has left.
that, and the little house she’s in the process of purchasing. the one she can again call her own and plant flowers and give them care.
those things brought her a smile.
the youngest of all by a decade, she looks like the oldest, weary from the pain of life.
and it makes my heart break for her.
I want to reach her. I want to hug her.
but she pulls back quickly from our goodbye hug as if afraid to get too close lest I abandon her too.
I have heard my sisters express a similar sentiment about her. generally a staunch advocate of remaining in the positive, I find myself struggling to find joy. to the credit of our brother–the Realist of our family–he was not focused on her sadness but rather her beauty and that of her daughter.
I cannot shake the sadness that was in her eyes. few wrinkles have invaded her tiny face but she has seen pain, I believe, beyond us all.
she is the flower in our family that needs the most love and care and nuture.
I believe we are in time.
I pray we are.