She spreads the opening wider, and her eyes cast a cursory glance over the contents. A monthly subway pass for seniors, a leather wallet with a faded picture of her parents, an appointment card to see a podiatrist; a pink cosmetic bag from the 90’s circa filled with nail clippers, a pocket packet of Kleenex, sterile eye drops, a jar of petroleum jelly, pink face rouge and a plastic comb with large teeth; a plastic container with false teeth, a hardboiled egg with two slices of brown bread, a plastic knife, a plastic fork, two packets of strawberry jam and peanut butter housed in a plastic baggie, a milk chocolate candy bar in a paper wrapper, a small container of plain yogurt, several sugar packets, a spoon, a package of Scottish mints, a pair of white wool socks with wide tops, non-prescription reading glasses, an illustrated book of fairy tales, a mini Walkman with headphones, a stuffed teddy bear with a missing eye and a framed picture of a mother who no longer remembers her name.
Teresa finally sees it. She pauses, removes the album and hugs it to her chest. A tear trickles down her face. She leans down and gently kisses her mother’s cheek.