The signs didn't deceive

Two old photoalbums were lying on the coffee table in my grandmother’s house. Thumbing through the albums I saw my grandmother in her youth, my father as a toddler dressed up for church and many baby pictures of my youngest uncle. Then I came across the photograph with a grim foretelling sense.

The boy fiddling with the motorcycle is my oldest uncle. Twenty years later he would become a motor mechanic and start a garage. The boy on the motorcycle is my youngest uncle. Twenty years later he would lose his life behind the wheel.