In Her Name

Looking at this picture of my mother when she was about 17 years old brings so many questions to my mind. This photo was taken for her high school yearbook to celebrate her graduation. She had beat the odds and was about to graduate from a small-town high school deep in the Virginia Appalachians. Later in my life, my mother would tell me so many stories of her life growing up in a poor working family. Most of those stories were about abuse, strength and survival and they would shake me to my core. This photo would have been taken about the time when her life changed in a violent way. A picture of her that would leave an unknowing person to think that everything is ok. Based on the timeline that she shared with me; this photo would have been taken not long after the most tragic but liberating moments in her life. Her hair is perfect and her eyes dark and deep. She has the subtle smile of a woman who is hiding the most horrible secrets. Secrets that she kept very close for many reasons. This was about the same time that she was about to marry my father. A marriage that would last for more than 50 years before she passed away. Those stories were ones of love, warmth, and shelter. Maybe her smile is one of newly found love and freedom from a man and family life that almost destroyed her. I have so many questions. I have a desperate need to know her and what she went through. Perhaps late, but never too late.