The Look That Stayed With Me
“…Sometimes, when I’d turn the music down and ask her to keep it quiet, she’d look at me with a distant, tired sadness — the same look she gave me years earlier on Washington Avenue when she knelt in front of the refrigerator and glanced over at me with that soft smile.”
“…Back then, I didn’t understand what lived behind her eyes. As a teenager, I finally did. The memory of that earlier moment would flash through me, not as a thought but as a feeling — the same ache, the same heaviness, the same quiet plea for relief. It was like seeing her then and now at the same time.”
Excerpt from my memoir: The Hand I Refused To Play, Chapter 10 “The Look That Stayed With Me”
