INK: This is My Past, These are My Roots

Audrey Whitfield, Poetry

I don’t know who took this picture,

And studying their faces, I try to see 

What they were thinking, what they hoped for from 

Their lives. 

Two young sophomores in college,

Each living separate lives.

Each have their own struggles,

Their own successes,

Their own ideas of the future. 

Both unknowing what their friendship will lead to.


This picture captures their eyes,

Telling a story.

Excitement for the coming night.

A dinner dance surrounded by their many other friends. 

A celebration.

A chance to meet new people.

Did they think this would be one of the best nights of their lives?


Could they have expected to start dating

A decade later?

Did they know they would get engaged?

Have four children?

Buy a house in New york?

Did they predict the highs and lows of having a family?


This is my past, these are my roots.

The mom of a girl who shares her strength,

The dad of a daughter who inherits his inquisitiveness.

Neither knowing they would have a little girl:

Sixteen now. 


I’m going to graduate high school soon.

Go to college.

Start a family of my own.

And looking at the pictures I take now,

I wonder —

How do I envision my future?