Big Stories and Little Lies

A large holiday cookie tin sat on the hearth in the den of my father’s house. My wife Joy and I pried the top off while no one was looking. A jumbled heap of old photographs filled three quarters of the container.

torn photoMy father figured prominently in each picture. Some were in color. Some in black and white. Holding up a shot of him posing on a beach, Joy said, “Jake, I think all these pictures have been cut in half.” Continue reading