What the hell do I do with the pictures? They were buried deep in my closet, hidden behind expensive boots, I always promise myself to wear. That paisley fabric box contained his sister and my sister prom, our son’s first birthday, smiling cousins, aunts and uncles at family weddings and cookouts. Once can use those pictures and create a movie of our life together. Those pictures capture the love, laughter, joy of those seventeen years. Where I sit today and look back I have to admit they weren’t all bad times. And those pictures are proof of the good times. However, as I sit amongst the pictures, I choke up as I view each one and play back those moments in my head. We were so young, so green, so fresh, so angry, so sad, so confused. We tried real hard to put up a front like everything was wonderful. And to the ordinary person we looked so happy and full of joy. The American dream. The nuclear family. The promise. But if you look closely, you’ll see neither one of us were truly happy. Both of us wanted to run and run real fast. We both wanted to escape the false reality we created for ourselves. But family was involved, we had a baby and lies we had to continue to perpetuate.So what do I do with the pictures? I have no idea, no damn idea.