My nephew (yes, one of those older than I) just sent me this image, captured from a video of his very long ago pidyon haben. I would not be born for many years; they had been married for just one. It's wonderful but a little unnerving to see them standing next to each other and looking happy--and so young--since I mostly remember less pleasant interactions. My mother was quite the fashion plate (I wish I had this dress!) and my suave, Bryllcreamed, Cary Grant-mustached father the fish out of water, more at home playing poker in the kitchen with my brother under a cloud of cigar smoke than dancing at a party. I look at this photo and can hear their voices over "Hava Nagila" blasting from the record player, his lower than the rumble of a subway, hers raspy and tender, masking all traces of a Queens accent and making sure I did the same.
How did they imagine the world in fifty years? Did they see me saying hello through time, and sharing their smiles with the entire unverse? I miss them very, very much.