A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
I skimmed the lines, my eyes stopping on a sentence near the center of the page. We missed your brilliant mind at the podium this year, Anna, the letter read. The signature at the bottom belonged to the dean of the science department.
The letter mentioned a fifteen year reunion that had taken place three weeks ago in Columbus. Anna had told me she received nothing in the mail from her old department, claiming they had likely lost her contact information after we moved to Oakridge.
My coffee machine clicked, signaling the end of the brewing cycle. I poured a mug, leaving it black, and stared at the handwritten text. Why would she claim there was no invitation if the department dean was personally lamenting her absence?
I set the letter down and picked up the silver frame, turning it toward the light.
Under the glass was a high resolution color photograph. It was not a casual snapshot. Anna stood in a brightly lit, modern laboratory, wearing a white lab coat with her name embroidered in green thread over the pocket.
