Old Memories, Dead Faces

I can see my Father
concentrating, grim-faced,
in work clothes, as
we struggle to fix the outdoor spigot
near the light pole

I can see my brother, George,
sitting quietly on the couch as
his wife Marlene tells
an outrageously funny story.
He gives the briefest smile

I can see my brother, Pete,
sipping coffee from a thermos cup
sitting in his big red truck
Then, resuming plowing
seemingly never-ending snow

I cannot see my sister, Anne...