WA-6 Draft 1

Dust was everywhere, mixed in with that fluffy insulation stuff that always made me cough. I'm probably on my way to getting some sort of respitory problem from that foul fuzz. Anyway- I was up in the attic getting the winter clothes down, and I came upon a slim cardboard box. This box was not pretty. It looked like it had been a hotel for mice or... something. Riddled with tiny holes as if it had been hit repeatedly with bird shot, the only distinguishible feature was the word PHOTOS, scrawled across the side in heavy black letters.
Aha! I remembered this box. I love looking at photographs, so I eagerly plunged my hands into the box (now up-graded to a treasure-chest in my mind), and pulled out little clusters of memories.
They were wonderful. Ranging from hilarious shots of Halloween costumes (including such gems as; washing machine, Interlochen bag-lady, school luch lady, and pineapple), to thing like graduations and the girls' baby pictures, vacations...I could go on, but- I won't, to spare you.
Why haven't I put any of these in frames or albums? Major failure on my part. Of course, I had meant to have each photo perfectly preserved in one of the many albums or frames I had, but that just never happened-- like a lot of little things around the house that had just 'never happened', that we'd 'never gotten around to'... hmmmm... .
I continued looking through the piles, until I came to the bottom. There was an old frame, lying face-down. I recognized it instantly; it was the one I had buried nearly 12 years ago so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. Carefully, almost timidly, I picked it up and turned it over.
There she was, blanketed in a layer of dust, but in no way muffled. As if anything could silence her character. Nope, not Elizabeth Arlent. This picture was taken after one of her performances. She was a dancer, one of the best- the 'prima ballerina' in the Royal Ballet. She was getting ready for an after party. I should know, I was the one who took it.
Her gown was beautiful, made of champagne silk, strapless, the fabric sweeping across her waist to the hip, then billowing out in graceful folds to the floor. Her hair was sleek and pulled back into a tight knot. She had this odd expression on her face, it was very intense. Sometimes she would get that way when she was trying to get a point across to somebody, but most of the time, she was very up-beat. Vivacious, wild, a force to be reckoned with, but also kind and thoughtful, that was Elizabeth. She was always laughing.
I stared at that picture for a very long time. I had put it away because it had always made me miserable whenever I saw it. Elizabeth had passed-away only a few months after that picture was taken. My best friend Elizabeth was gone. It was strange that someone so full of life had just slowly faded away. I didn't understand, and I think it scared me. But I have no reason to be afraid- I've just been being a baby. She should be remembered, and celebrated, not hidden away in a dark, dusty attic full of out-dated insulation!
I stared at the picture for another long stretch of time until I heard the twins, Jane and Lizzie, tearing through the house looking for me. Jumping up in a puff of fluff, I climbed down the splintery attic stairs back to reality (whatever that is).
Elizabeth's picture rests in the living room now. I think it's a nice touch.