Grandpap's Photo

It has creases and folds on one side from years of being buried in a box of memories I found hidden away.

Time has curled the picture and faded the subjects in it,
To the point they appear out of focus.

The print is scratched and rounded at the corners.
The mat finish is rough to the touch.
The picture itself feels heavy,
Reminiscent of an ancient development process long since forgotten.

The negative is lost.
This is the only shot of the two of us that I know of.

You’re sitting in your beaten tweed chair as you always did.
Dressed in your olive drab shirt,
Grey pants,
And horned rim glasses.
Looking up at me with love and pride.

I was Grandpap’s boy.

You smoked too much,
Gambled too much,
And drank too much.
But I never saw it.

All I ever saw is what I see now in this photograph.
The man, who in the final throws of Alzheimer’s, remembered two people.
His father, who he called “Pap” and me,
His boy.