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  • "Damnit! Please let go of my arm. Please!" She screamed as he squeezed her arm to the point where the color in the skin changed from the pressure he was applying physically and emotionaly.

    "Jackson, please, please, please let me go!" the words poured out of her mouth filled with angst, fear and exhaustion. Her words speak in multiple meanings.

    Jackson had tried to be a father on only the rare occasion. But he was at the point where effort was exasperating any type of reconcilliation. So he continued to hold and squeeze her arm, because love, for him was not an easy emotion.

    Life seemed to evaporate from nature as time stood, for a moment, still.

    Memories of her, his only child, rewound to her second year. He could see her eyes, eyes that spoke louder than sunsets and rounded cheeks that accentuated her tiny mouth that spoke with a vocabulary that astounded anyone who experienced the symphony of sound. A mouth that dipped at the edges, bordering on perfection.

    He captured this moment in the form of a photograph. A photograph he kept with him at all times in his pocket and in his mind. A memory in print, in color, on paper. The sun that day decided to create a backdrop of yellows and oranges, and created an experince deemed magic in his eyes. For this was the last moment they shared together, a moment where nothing other than joy seperated them. The last look before he left.

    Her face seemed the same 33 years later. Except the peace, the joy, the innocence was gone. Her new face told a story, a story of loss, of hurt, of shame and could not let go, not this time. And so he squeezed, and continued to apply pressure in tears, in silent apology, in remembering.
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