Montage

By Vera Duffy

Names, date, place—write it on the back and you’ll thank me, my mother told me. Modest advice I ignored, making my envelopes of photos about as meaningful as a haul from a flea market. Now Facebook tags them automatically.

But guess what. Mom’s bags over bags of Polaroids and Instamatics have no discernible order nor identifier in sight. Are you kidding me? I think, and straightaway realize she’d handled Dad’s montage alone, same as I for her.

Thank you Mommy.

Nothing to do but pick out the prettiest, the silliest, those with all us three. Who else is this for?