The Memory of Us

by Camille Di Maio

thought of our family, sometimes, as a tapestry: a perfect blending and weaving of colored threads that produced an enviable picture on our surface, while underneath we were a tangled maze of knots and stitches, colliding and separating in our own directions, united only in the mandate to keep the outward appearances lovely.

It is no wonder that some people are afraid of the dark, fearing what might be hiding in the shadows. My own monsters were self-concocted fits of overthinking.

“Did you know that the name of every continent ends with the same letter it begins with?”

There is so much sadness in the world. But pain and sadness have a way of drawing us closer to God if we let them.”

“It’s hard to believe in hope with so much sadness in the world.

You are a wealthy man, Father, but you are a poor, poor excuse for one.”

I was too wrapped up in my vanity and my desperation to consider the other people involved.