This I Believe

Sara - marietta, Georgia
Entered on December 13, 2006
Age Group: Under 18

I was sitting at my grandparents’ kitchen table looking at a wall of photographs. In one frame, my cousin, who was fourteen at the time, is holding a trophy after winning a regional soccer tournament. Next to that frame, a photo shows my aunt leaving for prom in a hot pink dress. It has been many years since these photos were taken. My cousin is married. My aunt’s dress is stored away in her attic, but these photographs have held onto those moments through all the passing time. I realized something that day; I believe in photographs.

Photographs are lasting. They take me back to that one moment in time. They take me back to remember every word spoken and every thought that ran through my head. A picture can evoke hidden feelings and reintroduce people that have left my life a long time ago. Every photo is meaningful; it does not matter what the photo shows in its frame. As I sat staring at that wall in my grandparents’ kitchen, I thought back to my photographs and my memories.

My favorite photograph sits in my bedroom. It’s a picture of me walking up the driveway on Christmas day two years ago. My hair is slightly messed, my forehead holds a moon-shaped cut, but I have the biggest smile on my face. I had just wrecked my new mini bike that had been sitting under the tree only hours before. Whenever I look at the photo, I can feel the cut. I can feel my heart racing. I can feel the whipping wind and the comforting warmth of my jacket. You can’t see these things from a picture, but those feelings are there. There is a story behind every photograph, and everyone has a story to tell.

Whenever I am at my grandparents’ house, my grandma bombards me with photo albums from the 1950’s to last summer. She sits next to me and narrates each passing photo. My grandma talks about “The good old days” and “When your parents were young”. When she describes these wonderful moments, I am able to capture a piece of her life. Not only can I see the memory in the frame, but I get a chance to see the memory through my grandma’s eyes.

Whenever I get the chance to experience other people’s memories through their photographs, the memories are forever with me. They are lasting even when a person has left my life. The person will continue to live on through the memories left behind just as the photographs will continue to live. Photographs never fade.