I don’t think any of us will ever fully understand our parents. Regardless of generation, what year you were born, what life experiences you may or may not have had, I think that because of the hierarchical relationship between parent and child, a child will never fully know her parent, and at the same time, a parent will never fully know her child. I mean, does anyone ever fully know anyone, anyway?

I came back to my parents’ house tonight for the first time during this trip back. The last time I was here was at the end of January. And when I went into my room, I noticed that the framed childhood photo of my brother and me was no longer on the shelf where it’s been sitting ever since I was a toddler; it was missing. That’s one of my favorite photos of us together. Where was it? Who moved it, and why?

So, my dad moved it. In fact, he moved it and cannot seem to remember where he put it. “I was just clearing away things and getting rid of junk, and so I may have taken it down,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll try to see if I can remember where I put it, but I may have thrown it out.”

Junk? Childhood photos of your own children…. are junk that need to be cleared away and even thrown out?

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