A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words
Don sat at his desk, a small picture in his hand and a perplexed expression across his face. His finger traced the edge of the picture and his eyes lit up. He picked up a pen and added a word to his list.
"What are you doing?" Raph asked, leaning against his brother's door, arms crossed. Don ignored him. Raph stepped closer and peeked over his brother's shoulder, uninvited, repeating his question.
"A picture is worth a thousand words." Don answered, growing slightly annoyed with his brother's intrusion. Raph glanced at the paper to Donnie's right, a numbered list of one hundred and fifty words covered the unlined sheet. A few words caught his eye. Friends. Family. Trust. Love. Raph raised an eyebrow.
"You're kidding me right?" He almost mocked, eyes scanning his brother's handwriting. "You mean to tell me," his Brooklyn accent shining through. "That that four by six," he was pointing at the face down photo on the desk, "makes you think of these words?" He now pointed at the list.
"Some people use more than four letter words to describe something." Don glared at his older brother, wishing he would leave. Raph shook his head and laughed.
"Whateva Don." He clapped his brother on his shoulder. "But surely that one little moment in time," His eyes watched the still unrevealed print, mind aching to know what was on the other side. "can't conjure," he'd heard Don use that word, "up all these." His hand waved over the list again. Don sat silently, knowing it was a losing battle with his stubborn brother.
"Just go do what you were doing." Don rested his elbow on the list, body guarding the print. Raph's eyes narrowed, he then shrugged and left his brother's room, joining Mikey on the living room couch. Don sighed, rubbing his temples. His fingers gently lifted the picture and started tracing the edges again. He studied the five familliar faces captured forever on film. The old farm house stood like a giant, its mouth like porch swallowing Don's family. Mikey sat on the old swing, eyes wide and mouth gaping. His lips were drawn into a smile. April sat beside him, a wide smiled crinkled her eyes. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her slender arms held them in place. Casey sat to her left, sandwiching her on the old wood planks. His face was painted with a mixture of amuesment and disgust. Whatever joke or story Mike was telling, it had his audience doubled over with laughter. Don smiled, his eyes traveling to the right of the picture. The left held joy and friendship, the right showed a dispute and rivalry. The screen door of the house was slightly open, having fallen there after Don's two older brothers stormed through it, almost knocking it off its hinges. Leo's hands were on his hips, his expression irritated and his jaw clinched. His eyes were narrowed and his muscles flexed. Raph's finger pointed at Leo's shell in the ever accusing way. Raph's eyes were wide and disgust painted his face. His mouth was caught open, mid word being yelled at his older brother. They stood facing each other, ready to pounce. Raph stretched his slender body, trying to tower over his older brother. His other hand hung close to his belt, fist clinched tight. The air held tension that was caught through the lens. Don remembered that day at April's place in the country. The sky was a brilliant summer blue, a few white puffy clouds dotted it. He was playing with a found Nikon camera and caught this candid shot. No one ever noticed and he never showed the photo to anyone. He sighed and turned to his list, he picked up his pen and tapped the capped end against his deep brown desk. His eyes scanned the words he had already written. Brothers. Summer. Carefree. Candid. He gently chewed the inside of his lower lip and readied the pen for writing. Number one fifty one - anger.
