A sharp shard of time

A sharp shard of time

If you delve into boxes with old pictures, handle with care! Some memories might cut you. Time has made them brittle, and preserved them so well that all its details are focused and sharp. As an example, here is the menu of the Air France flight that took my mother and father on their honeymoon to France. It is dated April 21st,1958.

My dad scribbled on it that it was 12:45, and they had just flown over New Orleans. My mom was happy because she had not been seasick. They had loved the Fricandeau de Veau Portugaise (or maybe its impressive name). They didn’t like the snotty flight assistants, and said they would not fly Air France again.

On the menu they also marked that they had toasted with two glasses of champagne, and thought they might go for two more. Even though I wasn’t there–primarily because I had not been born yet–I can picture them in black and white, shining with happiness.

Why do memories cut so deep and hurt so much?


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