The Only Family Activity

 by Jenna Bennett 

Hockey night at the Times Union Center
The blue walls and off-grey concrete floor
The cold air blasted to keep the ice frozen
The sun's setting rays coming through the large glass wall
But I preferred to stand in the shaded parts.
The studium of the photo.

The ‘00 jersey is the first of the bunch... but maybe its a cruel joke insinuating he is the root of my problems
The ‘01 jersey that my mother wears… because aren’t mothers supposed to be your #1 ?
The ‘02 jersey for my brother… kind of strange he wears it, as he surely never comes second in their hearts
The ‘03 jersey I wear is the last of the bunch…its quite easy to see I am the trail behind, the shadow, the mostly forgotten

I do not remember
What was going through my mind
What I was staring at
Where I wanted to go

It was probably
“I don’t want to be seen or associated with them”
The cheerleaders I idolized (and who indirectly taught me if you're pretty enough, you’d get attention from my father)
As for where I wanted to go...literally anywhere they weren't.

We don't have many family photos for me to look back on
But in the few we do have,
all of them have that sort of look.
The look of me spaced out, detached, disengaged.
The look of never fitting in
Even if we wear the same clothes.
Even if I have my fathers blue eyes.
Even if I have (some of) my mothers mannerisms.
I'll never be fit for them, but I am glad of this.
The punctum of the photo.