Lucille

They met once in California
at a beach house we rented
for a few days.
Lucille was 79, gazing through
coke-bottle glasses at Karen,
who was 13 and didn’t have
time for anyone older than her,
especially not someone
she never met before
and would never meet again.
Lucille died last week.
On her bedroom dresser, she
left behind a small framed
photograph of Karen.

I was very moved by this when I found out about Karen's photograph on Lucille's dresser. It reminded me in a powerful way that we each may have a much more profound effect on someone else than we could ever have imagined.