If it is said that a picture is worth a thousand words,
Where does that leave a wall covered in picture frames of every shape and size...?
Just like the people within the frames.
Young, old, smiling, serious.
Each face tells a story.
Each story touches a heart.
That heart was my father's.
It is these photos he saw both day and night --
When he first opened his eyes in the morning
And when he closed them at night.
It was his wall of naches, his wall of pride.
The generations before him.
The generations after him.
A life well lived.
I looked at that wall today.
The wall between the bed and the dresser,
also covered in frames of every shape and size.
The wall was full.
The bed was empty.