Fifty – Memories Are Mine!

A man’s real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.” Alexander Smith

 

          It rained most of last weekend and I decided to take on a long over due challenge of clearing out a storage closet. That’s when I came across a large box of photographs that I have for the longest time meant to put into photo albums and had not, because there were so many of them and I knew it would be time-consuming.

          I decided to make it a family project and enlisted the help of my three teenagers. I popped a large bowl of popcorn and the four of us gathered on the floor in the family room with all these pictures and album books.

          As I thought, it took hours to separate and place the pictures into the books, but that was largely due to the children looking at the pictures and then asking questions about them. Most of the photos were of them when they were small.

          I shared with them where we were and what we were doing at the time of the pictures being taken. I was amazed that they had very little remembrance of the occasions. There were pictures of them eating whiles sitting in their high-chairs and instead of the food going into their mouths they had decorated their faces with it. There were pictures of them learning to ride their bikes and of my daughter and I enjoying a tea party while dressed up like queens. There were pictures of us painting and reading and of their first day of school and even one of their first ride on the school bus. Even more pictures of their first zoo visit, swimming lessons, and even a picture when my youngest son at eighteen months was learning to ice skate, but was falling and mopping the ice with his body most of the time. There were many more of family picnics, camping, fishing and many, many other occasions.

          After all the photographs were placed and put away, I later came across a few picture albums that I kept from when my mother had died. I looked through each and realized I had no or little remembrance of some of the pictures that were within them. I then realized that the pictures that are/were taken maybe shared with others, but the memories are mine. For me, as well as for others to remember – how precious the thought of being able ‘to see’ a moment from time past.