Image Behind My Eyes The first memories are fuzzy— he towering over me, picking me up, bouncing me, singing words I couldn’t understand. He was so much younger then but that image has long faded like disappearing ink on an aging canvass My final memory of him, that last image behind my eyes is when I stood over him and gave him water, he being too weak to raise his head. Years have distanced me; years bring me closer. Now when my son and I arm wrestle, my exhausted arm flops on the table. Is the image behind my eyes memory or premonition?