There is Aunt Potsi, grinning up at me from the porch swing. She died and was buried thirty years ago. And—oh, look!—there are Grandma and Grandpa Tilmann dancing at the old Anderliss Arcade. They passed on forty-five years ago; the Arcade was torn down thirty-one years after that.
Oh yes, they are all there, frozen forever in those bygone times; ghosts from my younger days. It’s easy to revive them, though. All I have to do is dust off and open the cover of my old photo album to bring them back to life.
Oh yes, they are all there, frozen forever in those bygone times; ghosts from my younger days. It’s easy to revive them, though. All I have to do is dust off and open the cover of my old photo album to bring them back to life.
