When looking among the boxes one day, I found a picture of a family. It was my family once, a long time ago, before I was even able to understand the word. There we were, the five of us. A mom and dad, two brothers, and a baby. It all seems so perfect now. Mom, in her old worn glasses. Dad, back when his hair still had a color. The oldest, in an old grey sweater. And the middle one, with the long blonde hair. Both still wearing their crosses. And there was I. The littlest, with barely a tuft of hair to my name. There it is. All glorious perfection. Who would know the future? All that pain and trouble ahead... It seems impossible to comprehend. But all of that is over now. It is passed. Only the picture remains. One old, happy picture. One solitary man. One hopeful little memory, locked forever in time. 'tis a pity we can never have it back.