this woman spent many years greeting people as they entered — as i very often did  — an old friend’s apartment door in new britain, ct, a small city famous for stanley works tools and, forgive me, little else.  part of me wishes she could speak and tell me what i have forgotten of what went on in that apartment.  or never really remembered in the first place.  most of me is happy that she can’t.  though i do wonder what became of all those faces the occupy the few memories i do have from inside.