Moment vFinal

[[August, 2016, Present Day]]

The crackle of the fireplace and howl of the wind outside the window are the only company on an otherwise cold and lonely winter night. No rain or snow -- that would at least help mask the emptiness -- just empty gusts of wind. The fire is starting to die, but you can’t build up the energy to get out of the chair and add any wood. You’re running low and need to save some for tomorrow and it’s starting to get late. The wooden rocking chair is teetering back and forth to the tap of your feet, a soothing lullaby that calmed your old, weary bones. [[Tap your feet]] [[Stop rocking]] <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/YwBu02p.jpg" width="800"></center>

After the chair creaks backwards onto its heels, your momentum brings it rocking forward back down to the ground. Rhythmic and methodical, but lacking much reason to continue other than your own selfish persistence, much like the beat of your heart. You tap your feet down, sending the chair backwards again. [[Tap your feet again]] [[Stop rocking]]

Once your feet make contact with the ground again, you bring your movement to a stop. Only then do you feel the aching in your joints and soreness of your muscles. Old age isn’t kind to anyone, least of all you. You reach to your right and pick up the photo album that was sitting on the end table. The cover is a simple, tattered leather, but it’s packed full of pictures. Some are old polaroids, some are glossy digital photos, some are even just simple drawings, but they’re all memories. [[Read the engraving]] [[Open the photo album]]

After the chair creaks backwards onto its heels, your momentum brings it rocking forward back down to the ground. You tap your feet down, sending the chair backwards again. [[Tap your feet again]] [[Stop rocking]]

You rub your right hand across the cover of the photo album, wiping off the thin layer of dust. It’s been awhile since you opened it, probably not since your daughter visited a few months ago. You peer down your nose, through the lenses of your reading glasses, and see the phrase: “Family is where life begins and love never ends.” Your mother always loved that phrase. [[Open the photo album]]

You open the photo album, turning the cover from right to left. Unlike most photo albums, yours is huge and thick. Several inches thick, in fact, with large, wide, pages. You’d always preferred to fill it from back to front. Each time you open it, you’re presented with unfinished pages, ready to be filled with memories -- a testament to the idea that your journey is never finished. Once you flip past the several empty pages still padding the front of the book, you reach the most recent entry, a page full of pictures from the day of your beloved spouse’s funeral. [[Inspect the funeral photos]]

[[April, 2016, 4 Months Ago]]

You’re standing in a graveyard, under a makeshift cloth tent, wearing all black. Friends and family surround you, gazing down at the casket embroidered in flowers and notes, just before being lowered into the earth. [[After over 50 years of marriage, you’re alone again.]] <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/4gn082f.jpg" width="800"></center>

Now what? [[Stand silently]] [[Talk to your daughter]] [[Talk to your friend]] [[Approach the casket]]

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and feel the tears swelling up inside. Your heart sinks as you remember all of the good times -- and the bad -- that you shared together. The fights, the smiles, the laughs, and the cries, all come rushing back at once. Your knees start to buckle and you sit down with help from your daughter and you can’t help but start crying. Your breathing gets shaky as you struggle to maintain your composure and a heavy weight of loneliness sets itself on your shoulders, bearing down on you with the force of decades of companionship. You stand up, wipe your tears, and try to be strong. Crying isn’t going to change anything. [[After over 50 years of marriage, you’re alone again.]]

You lean over to your daughter at your side and kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you for being here sweetie. I know how hard this is for you,” you whisper in her ear. She looks back at you with her deep, brown eyes, and melts into your chest, hugging you and crying. Seeing her like this only makes it that much harder. “I’m sorry,” you sigh. But there’s nothing else you can do at this point. [[After over 50 years of marriage, you’re alone again.]]

You turn to your best friend of over 70 years and lean in for a hug. “It’s hard to think about right now, but I promise the pain is gone and they’re in a better place,” your friend says. “I know,” you reply with a grim smile. “I just wish that pain leaving this world didn’t bring so much pain for everyone else in its wake.” “Yeah,” your friend replies. “We all do.” After looking in each other’s eyes for a long while, you turn back and look down at the casket again. [[After over 50 years of marriage, you’re alone again.]]

You walk up to the base of the casket and reach down to rest your hand, palm down, near the top. Closing your eyes, you whisper a few words to yourself about a life full of love and devotion, and open your eyes just as the rain starts. With water hitting the flowers and your face in equal measure, the raindrops and tears are indistinguishable. Your daughter rushes forward to give you her umbrella, but you turn it down. [[What difference would it make?]]

You’re already soaked from the initial downpour. The only thing that could warm your aching heart would be the warm embrace of the one person in this world that you loved more than life itself and they’re about to be buried six-feet-under the ground you walk on. [[You turn to walk towards your car and desperately wish you could forget this day ever happened.]]

//The world around you comes rushing back as you leave the memory// Crackling fire, howling wind -- you’re back in your rocking chair. Droplets of water are peppered across the photo album now, so you look up to see if there is a leak in the roof before realizing it was just tears. This is the first time you’ve cried since that day. It’s going to take a long time to get over this. Hell, at this rate, you may just die too before you’re ever over it. What’s the point? [[Turn the page.]]

You turn the page of the photo album and see yourself standing there, right next to your spouse, in front of the restaurant you owned together: //Hometown Diner and Lounge// It was such a generic name, but everyone seemed to love it. Instead of just offering old timey style diner food -- burgers, fries, milkshakes, biscuits and gravy, pie -- it was a more casual place for people to gather as well. We had a lounge area that groups could rent out for sporting events, a bunch of arcade machines and game systems, and really big fancy leather booths. No tables or chairs. About ten few years before your spouse died, you sold the diner and retired together. They turned it into a Starbucks. [[Inspect the diner photos]]

[[February, 2006, About 10 Years Ago]]

“What’s that sound?” you say, craning your neck around behind you. “Calm down, they’re just removing the sign,” your spouse says calmly. “They’re not keeping the name, remember?” “I know,” you grumble. “I just hoped they’d at least wait until we finished signing the papers and left before they made any drastic changes like that. What’s the big rush?” “Sorry for the delay!” yells a tall, slender, young man in a suit from across the parking lot. “I was stuck in traffic on my way over here. Are you both ready to finish up and get on your way?” You look to your spouse as they smile back and take your hand. “Yes, let’s head inside and finish this up,” you proclaim. [[Look at the sign]] [[Follow the businessman inside]]

Before following the man inside, you turn again to look at the sign. A contractor is removing the sign you paid a graphic designer almost $1,000 to design and a different contractor about the same to install nearly 20 years ago. This diner has been a part of your life ever since. “Don’t go and get all emotional about it now,” your spouse says sternly. “Selling now was your idea. We have enough money to go wherever we want for the rest of our lives. We’re getting too old for this anyway.” “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just gonna miss it is all,” you say. [[Follow the businessman inside]]

Holding hands, you walk inside together. He sits down at the corner booth -- the same one you sat at when you bought the place -- and put the paperwork in front of you. “All we need to finish this is both of your signatures on this last page and we’re good to go!” he exclaims. You turn to look at your spouse, who returns your gaze with another perfectly timed smile. One final deep breath, and you scrawl your signature onto the page and slide it to your spouse. Another signature, this time with a bit less hesitation than your own, and you’re both officially no longer business owners. “Well alright then!” the businessman yelps. “That was easier than ripping off a band-aid. What are you to doing to celebrate?” “I think we’ll go to the movies,” you say. “We haven’t had a night to ourselves, outside this diner, in I don’t know how long. It’ll be nice to be served a bag of popcorn by someone else.” “That sounds like a great idea. You know, I hea--” he starts to say as his phone rings. “I’m sorry, I really need to take this. Pleasure doing business with you!” He shakes your hand and heads out the door again. “I guess that’s it,” your spouse says. “Want to get dinner somewhere fancy before the movie?” You nod your head and walk towards the door as well. The businessman said the new owners hadn’t decided what to turn it into yet, but the new owner has multiple different franchise opportunities he’d consider bringing to the town. Hopefully it isn’t some horrible chain restaurant or something. Or God forbid another Starbucks. [[You leave the diner one final time.]]

//The world around you comes rushing back as you leave the memory// Crackling fire, howling wind -- you’re back in your rocking chair. You exhale a heavy breath and open your eyes. It feels like that was only yesterday. Where has all the time gone? You traveled the world together, visited different countries, and shared amazing experiences after you retired. In hindsight, you should have done so sooner. It makes your loneliness now so much more poignant when you remember not just the good times that you shared, but are reminded of the lack of companionship you now face for the rest of your life. [[Flip to the next section.]] <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/JF9rjXh.jpg" width="800"></center>

You take a deep breath and flip to the next section of the album. This time, it’s a large family photo. You’re holding a small newborn baby -- your grandson -- standing beside your spouse. Your daughter is in a hospital bed, having just given birth, holding hands with her husband, your son-in-law. It’s a happy moment. One of your proudest, in fact. [[Inspect the birth photos.]]

[[October, 1998, A Little Less Than 20 Years Ago]]

The sound of a baby crying is one of the most effective ways to make everyone in a room pay attention. “You’re holding him wrong,” your spouse says as they correct your arms. “You’re not supporting his head enough. Let me do it.” “Will you two hush already? Let’s just take the picture so I can shove some food in my face. I’m starving right now,” your daughter groans. Everyone turns to face the nurse holding the camera. “One, two...three! Cheese!” she exclaims as a bright flash fills the hospital room. “Thank you so much!” your spouse says and walks over to the nurse to get the camera back. “Can you get these photos developed this weekend?” “Yeah, sure,” you say without looking up from the face of the itty bitty baby you’re holding in your arms. “I can’t believe how big he is. And strong. He keeps squeezing my fingers like crazy.” “Yeah, he gets that strength from his father. I could have been a bodybuilder if I really wanted to,” your daughter’s husband remarks with a smile. “The only body you’ve built is one full of shit and that’s the truth,” you say with a laugh. “Here, give him to me, my turn!” your spouse says, reaching for your grandson. [[Give your spouse the baby.]]

You slowly hand him over and turn to look at your daughter. She has her eyes closed and your son-in-law is caressing her cheek with his hand. They’ve always made such a happy couple together. [[Go to the vending machine.]] [[Go to the bathroom.]]

“I think I’m going to go grab a soda. Does anyone else want anything?” you say. “Unless the vending machine has a steak, I think I’ll just wait until I can have some real food,” your daughter remarks. “But thanks!” “Alright, I’ll be right back.” You turn and walk out the hospital room door and are immediately hit with a smell of sterilized everything. You’ve never liked the smell of hospitals. Everyone is either old, sick, or miserable and it’s just depressing. Once you get older, you’d die alone in a cabin somewhere before you’d let your daughter stick you in one of these places. <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/C3qSWMW.jpg" width="800"></center> As you round the corner on your right to head towards the vending machine, you run into a nurse that was too busy charting and speed walking to see you coming. “Oh, I’m sorry!” you say as his clipboard falls to the ground. “Let me get that for you.” You lean over to pick it up and he thanks you, apologizing for his clumsiness as well. “I get so lost in my own head sometimes I forget to watch where I’m going,” he says. “Can I help you find something?” “Oh no, I was just going to get a soda from the vending machine,” you reply. “I just became a grandparent!” “Oh, well congratulations!” he exclaims. “That’s so exciting. What’s the baby’s name?” [[They haven’t picked a name yet.]] [[Jimmy, after his father.]] [[Gilgamesh. Don’t ask.]]

“Be right back, I’ve gotta use the bathroom,” you say to everyone. You turn and walk out the hospital room door and are immediately hit with a smell of sterilized everything. You’ve never liked the smell of hospitals. Everyone is either old, sick, or miserable and it’s just depressing. Once you get older, you’d die alone in a cabin somewhere before you’d let your daughter stick you in one of these places. <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/C3qSWMW.jpg" width="800"></center> As you round the corner on your left to head towards the vending machine, you spot another family inside their hospital room. Everyone is huddled around the hospital bed where a young woman is propped up, much like your own daughter. She must have just given birth as well. Except everyone is crying. “I’m so sorry,” you hear someone mutter. You make eye contact with an older gentleman, tears filling his eyes, and he turns away from your gaze just as you pass the doorway. Did the baby die? You’ve got no idea what’s going on in that room, but it’s certainly not the same mood that’s happening down the hall in your daughter’s room. You eventually find the bathroom and [[head back to your daughter’s room.]]

“Well, they actually haven’t picked a name yet,” you sight. “My daughter keeps saying that she wants to wait until ‘they find the right name’ but I’m starting to wonder if we should just start calling him John Doe.” “Oh, that’s not uncommon,” the nurse replies. “They’ll decide on something soon!” You smile and say your farewell as you continue down the hallway to procure your soda. You eventually find the vending machine and [[head back to your daughter’s room.]]

“His name is Jimmy, or really Jimmy the 2nd, or Junior I guess. It’s his father’s name,” you explain. “Oh, how cute! You don’t see that as often anymore,” said the nurse. “Enjoy being a grandparent!” You smile and say your farewell as you continue down the hallway to procure your soda. You eventually find the vending machine and [[head back to your daughter’s room.]]

“Well, it’s Gilgamesh. A character from some ancient poem or something. I don’t know,” you laugh. “Oh, well that’s unique at least!” the nurse says, a bit confused. “Take care!” You smile and say your farewell as you continue down the hallway to procure your soda. You eventually find the vending machine and [[head back to your daughter’s room.]]

//The world around you comes rushing back as you leave the memory// Crackling fire, howling wind -- you’re back in your rocking chair. It’s strange how sometimes you remember the most innocuous details. Of course you remember the exact moment that your grandson was born, you remember your daughter’s wedding day, you remember all of those big monumental shifts in life, but there’s something special about the moments afterwards too. It’s like the moments after big moments are more revealing, in a way. How you and those around you act after something life changing says more about a person’s true character than a big event in and of itself. Is that a good or a bad thing, though? Are you proud of who you are and what’s happened in your life? Or would you change some things if you had the chance? [[Turn to the next section of the album.]]

You turn the pages of the photo album again, contemplating some of the choices you’ve made in your life. How would things have been different if you made small changes in your daily routines on some days? Or if you said something different. That’s when you reach the section of the photo album of you and your spouse in the bedroom of your first house you bought together and it comes rushing back to you. This wasn’t just the first house you owned, but it was the place where the two of you had your most volatile arguments. [[Inspect the photos of the house.]]

[[August, 1981. 35 Years Ago.]]

“Do you even love me anymore?” your spouse says, with a straight face, tears swelling behind bright, blue eyes. “Because if you don’t, I wish you’d tell me.” <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/NOHHnNM.jpg" width="800"></center> [["Of course I still love you!"]] [[I don’t know.]]

“Of course I still love you!” you exclaim. “I’ve never stopped loving you and I have no intention of ever stopping loving you.” “Well, you certainly don’t show it,” your spouse says. “Half the time I can’t tell if you even know I’m here, let alone that we have a child together.” [[“What are you talking about?”]] [[“Why do you think I don’t notice you?"]] [[“What can I do to be better?”]]

“I don’t know,” you say, as the air in your lungs leaves just as quickly as the words themselves. “You...y--” your spouse sputters. “You don’t know if you don’t love me anymore?” [[That’s not what I meant!]] [["Of course I still love you!"]]

“What are you talking about?” you ask. “You can’t tell if I even know you’re here? Of course I do. We’re married. We see each other every day.” “There’s a difference between seeing each other and being together,” your spouse proclaims and turns away from you. [[“What can I do to be better?”]] [[“This marriage is a partnership.”]]

“Why do you think I don’t notice you?” “Why do you think I don’t notice you?” you say. “Is this about what happened the other night?” “No, it’s not ‘about’ something. This is more than one thing,” your wife says, facing towards you more directly. “I can’t tell if you want to be together anymore and I don’t want to live a lie if you don’t.” [[“What can I do to be better?”]] [[“This marriage is a partnership.”]]

“What can I do to be better?” you ask. “How can I let you know that I still love you?” Your spouse looks at you and smiles sarcastically. “If only it were that easy,” they reply. “This isn’t something that can be fixed in a single conversation. It’s going to take a long time of commitment and behaviour changes and, frankly, I don’t know if I can believe they’re going to happen.” [[“You’re not making any sense.”]] [[“We need to start somewhere.”]]

“This marriage is a partnership,” you retort. “I’ve noticed problems on your end as well. It’s not like I’m the only one at fault here.” “Like what?” your spouse sharply replies. [[“You don’t pay me much attention either.”]] [[“Are you cheating on me?”]] [[“You don’t spend enough time with our daughter.”]]

“You’re not making any sense,” you state. “I’m trying to make things better by offering to change and you’re shutting me down.” “You’re not giving me any other options,” your spouse responds. [[“This marriage is a partnership.”]] [["Is this about me not loving you, or you not loving me?”]]

“We need to start somewhere,” you say. “I know we can’t get past this in a single conversation, but we can’t keep going like this without addressing it.” “That’s what I’ve been saying,” your spouse responds quickly. “But what else am I supposed to do? I’m not happy.” [[“This marriage is a partnership.”]] [["Is this about me not loving you, or you not loving me?”]]

“You don’t pay me much attention either,” you respond, increasing in volume. “I can’t even remember the last time I felt like you genuinely cared about me.” “What?!” your spouse shouts. “You have GOT to be kidding me. After all that I do for you, you’re going to suddenly decide I don’t love you enough only after I call you out first? Are you kidding me right now?” [[“This is why we can’t have discussions.”]] [[“Why does everything have to be about you?”]] [[“Maybe I’d show my love more often if you didn’t get so upset all the time.”]]

“Are you cheating on me?” you say calmly. “I want to know the truth.” “I can’t believe you’d ask me that right now,” your spouse says, with a frown. “What kind of person do you think I am?” [[“Answer the question.”]]

“You don’t spend enough time with our daughter,” you say. “Don’t pretend like I’m not right.” “What does that have to do with us?” your spouse replies. “Don’t bring her into this -- this is about you and me. If you don’t love me anymore, we shouldn’t be together.” [[“What are you saying?”]] [[“Are you cheating on me?”]]

“This is why we can’t have discussions.” “This is why we can’t have discussions,” you respond in kind. “Everytime we try to talk about something you get so upset and start yelling at me!” “You not loving me anymore isn’t my fault,” your spouse says. “If this family falls apart, that’s on you.” [[“Don’t put that kind of pressure on me.”]] [[“But I DO still love you!”]]

“Why does everything have to be about you?” you ask, blankly. “It’s getting tiresome.” “How is everything about me?!” your spouse yells. “ME!? You’re the selfish one that doesn’t take the time to show any affection anymore. It’s like being married to a corpse you’re so cold sometimes.” [[“Oh whatever. You should know I love you.”]] [[“What would you have me do, then?”]]

“Maybe I’d show my love more often if you didn’t get so upset all the time,” you reply, with a pinch of anger. “It’s difficult to love someone that makes themselves to hard to even like.” Your spouse looks down and you feel a sense of regret for what you just said, knowing it’s too late to take it back. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” your spouse mutters, finally. [[“What are you saying?”]]

“Answer the question,” you say, sternly, staring your spouse down from across the room. “Are you cheating on me?” “The fact that you’d ever even think that I am is too much for me to handle right now,” they reply. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” [[“What are you saying?”]]

"Is this about me not loving you, or you not loving me?” you quickly reply, adrenaline rising. “Neither. Or maybe both. I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” they reply, voice trailing off at the end. [[“What are you saying?”]]

“Don’t put that kind of pressure on me,” you respond, getting angry. “You’re making this sound like it’s all my fault, but you’re the one that brought this up today. You’re the one that started yelling at me. This goes both ways. I could do better, but so could you.” “No. This is your fault,” your spouse says, flatly. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” [[“What are you saying?”]]

“But I DO still love you!” you shout. “Just because you’re too blind to see how much I love you doesn’t mean I don’t. I’d do anything for you and this family.” “I don’t know if I believe you anymore,” your spouse responds, grimly. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” [[“What are you saying?”]]

“What are you saying?” you say, struggling to find the air to get the words out. “I’m saying I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” your spouse replies, firmly. “I just...I don’t know.” As your spouse stands up to leave the room, you’re speechless. No words can express what you’re feeling and you don’t know the right words to get them to stay at your side, so you say nothing. You do nothing. [[You sit there and wish that you could make things better, but you can’t.]]

“Oh whatever. You should know I love you,” you say, exhausted. “I don’t know what else to say at this point.” “Me neither,” your spouse replies. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” [[“What are you saying?”]]

“What would you have me do, then?” you say, earnestly. “Tell me what I can do to make this right.” “It isn’t that simple, you know it isn’t,” your spouse says, exhausted. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” [[“What are you saying?”]]

“That’s not what I meant!” you quickly reply. “I just don’t know. I feel what’s going on, but I don’t know what’s wrong. Does that make sense?” “No, but nothing does anymore,” they reply. “Half the time I can’t tell if you even know I’m here, let alone that we have a child together.” [[“What are you talking about?”]] [[“Why do you think I don’t notice you?"]] [[“What can I do to be better?”]]

//The world around you comes rushing back as you leave the memory// Crackling fire, howling wind -- you’re back in your rocking chair. That one was rough. You had almost forgotten about that fight. After that night, you didn’t speak to your spouse for almost a full week and you didn’t touch one another for over two weeks. It was like living with a ghost that you only saw when the haunting memory of your marriage was too necessary to escape. But, over time, you got past it. You had more fights, which eventually turned into arguments, which eventually turned into conversations. You went to marriage counseling. You spent more time together -- and apart -- and rekindled the love that you shared on your wedding day. Back then, you could hardly look at one another, but now, you want nothing more than to see their smiling face one last time. [[Continue to the next section of the photo album.]]

You’re reaching the latter portion of the photo album at this point. You flip past birthdays, celebrations, anniversaries, and more before eventually landing on a moment in time that was almost too small to capture. Collected in a scattering of photographs from old polaroid cameras is a single image of yourself, your spouse, and your little daughter who must have been younger than 2, sitting in the sand at the beach together. [[Inspect the beach photo.]]

[[July, 1976, About 40 Years Ago.]]

You wiggle your toes in the sand as a failed attempt to distract yourself from the sun beating down onto you. It’s July, so you expected it to be warm, but you didn’t think the beach would turn into the face of the sun itself. “Good lord it’s hot out here!” you remark, sitting on a beach towel about 30 yards from the water’s edge. “Want to get in the water now?” Your spouse turns to look at you, placing their right hand on their brow to shade the glare of the sunlight. “Yeah, I think she’d like that,” they reply, motioning towards your daughter who is busy either digging a hole to hide from the heat, or building a sand castle. “Come here sweetie, let’s go find some fishies!” your spouse says, picking your daughter up by the waist as she giggles. [[Follow them.]] [[Watch them play.]]

You hop off from your towel and dust off your shorts. It’s been awhile since you’ve been in the water, so it should feel great on a day like this. Just as you catch up to them a couple dozen yards away, a big wave comes crashing down into the shore, soaking you all from your waist down. “Wow!” you yell. “That feels //soooo// cold right now!” “Yeah, let’s go farther!” your spouse replies, wading into the salt-laden water of the sea. Before long, the ocean is up to your knees, then your waist, and then your chest. Your daughter is floating between the two of you using her arm floaties and the three of you are bobbing up and down in the middle of the ocean. <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/tmfztF2.jpg" width="800"></center> [[You wish this day would never end.]]

You considered chasing after them, but decide to hang back for a while longer and watch them play instead. At first you had wanted a second kid after your daughter turned 2, but now that the time’s come, you’re feeling content with just the one. Your spouse puts her down on the beach just before the waves hit and splash both of them with a huge impact of cold water. Your daughter shrieks and giggles as she falls onto her bottom, flopping her arms like a duck. Between the glare of the sun and reflection of the ocean, you’ve found true peace and happiness. The sight of your family together, enjoying the day, and bonding with nature is beautiful. It’s perfect. Your daughter comes rushing back to you and jumps into your lap, soaking wet. Your spouse, still cupping sea water in their hand, tosses it in your face and beckons you to the pull of the tide in the distance. “Let’s go!” they say. <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/nT0ZxqC.jpg" width="800"></center> [[You wish this day would never end.]]

//The world around you comes rushing back as you leave the memory// Crackling fire, howling wind -- you’re back in your rocking chair. Droplets of water -- no, tears again -- are sprinkled across the old, tattered pages of the photo album again. It’s been decades since you thought about that day. Before the arguments, before your daughter grew up, got married, and had a child of her own. Before you had anything to worry about other than simply enjoying life. Those were the good old days. The days that are easy to forget when the pain of the present is so recent in our minds. Over time, you fell into this state of complacency, letting the suffering and misfortune of circumstance press upon you and weigh you down. But it doesn’t have to be like that. You can miss your spouse dearly while still celebrating the happiness of your life together. You can appreciate the good times, while remembering and learning from the bad. [[Close the photo album.]]

You close the photo album and set it back on the table beside you. It may look like just a mere photo album, but this is so much more than that. It’s a book of not only memories and moments, but a portal to the past with lessons for the future. They say time heals all wounds and you’d probably agree. It pulses through the veins of life, love, and happiness as the blood of human connection. [[Close your eyes.]]

After you place the book down, you close your eyes. You lean back in your rocking chair once again, letting the momentum of your weight and the tap of your feet lull you to sleep. Rocking back and forth...back and forth...back and forth… [[Until the rocking finally stops.]] <center><img src="http://i.imgur.com/zDAMmKN.jpg" width="800"></center>

''The End.'' You just played ''//Moments,//'' a short, interactive story made in Twine. ''Writing:'' David Jagneaux (@David_Jagneaux) ''Art:'' Kevin Zhang (@yaaarkz) This interactive story was made over the course of a weekend for the first annual Serenity Forge Game Jam: http://serenityforge.com/gamejam //''Thank you for playing!''//