Perfect Mess

Today, I had a perfect mess of photo albums around me.
I was knee-deep into memories, and a couple jumped out.
There were blacks and whites, colors, and some
splashed with emotions.
I saw myself first in baby skin,
in silky dresses and satin ribbons,
in a white gown, then in wrinkles,
and I saw myself just yesterday.
There was one of my sister and me.
Back when. Back when we were
fighting over a silly doll.
Its hair was long and golden, unkempt,
rough, partly curly, mostly colored.
Rainbow.
I giggled and snickered ridiculously over it.
No one else in the living room,
except myself and I.
I can laugh all I want.
I'm ninety-nine and the hell with everything,
the hell with the food.
the hell with the clothes.
the hell with the money.
the hell with stifling atrocious laughter.

I can feel it...
I felt some sort of blinding flash.
God took a picture of me right now,
sitting around pictures of pictures,
and he's saving it for me...
later, in heaven, lounging on some couch,
I'll sit around with photos of me like this,
and I'll stifle another laughter!
And another!
And another!
And I'll say: "That was fun.
That was life back then."
Hopefully then, I won't be so alone
as to let my silly self let loose.
But either way,
I'm sure I'll laugh at it.
Laugh at myself.
Because we all end up doing that.
Just doing that.
Just laughing at ourselves.. and that's that.
And that's all.