Photographs

I don't know where to begin, describing something so abstract. How do you communicate this? Jealous, but not really. Left out? I'm not sure...when I see old photographs of you, before we knew each other, I can't explain it. You look so happy. I've always loved your smile. Maybe that was it, I'm wishing I could have seen your smile earlier, been part of the chain of events that caused it. These pictures feel like a separation, an ultimately meaningless one, trumped by subsequent events, but a separation nonetheless. I want to be smiling with you sixteen months before we crossed paths. Four years. However far back the photos go. Is that strange? I want to stop you on the street three summers prior to our first meeting and say "God, your happiness is stunning."