My grandma used to love looking at pictures. She liked to tell stories about the people in them. She would tell me who they are and what all they were doing in the picture.
I remember my papaw did, too. He was the oldest out of eleven kids, and a lot of his siblings either had health problems or died young. He liked to see things the way they were.
Don't take that as he didn't like the present, but he missed his siblings. I think that was pretty justified.
I was too young then to notice why they liked looking at pictures. I just liked the pretty colors of the new camera and the elegance of the older one.
I have a new appreciation for photo albums because I realize what the pictures in them are. They're images of memories someone is scared to lose. Times of summers long since gone.
I'm glad I had those times, but I'm honestly pretty devastated because I had them. I can't stay there. I wish I could go back.
I'm scared of getting like Gammy. She doesn't remember the things she once did. I don't want to forget all of those times. I hate that I might not be able to remember them one day.
I hate that she can't remember me.
I'm scared I'm going to forget my family and friends one day.
I'm terrified of forgetting him.
What if I do? What will it take for me to remember him?
Why couldn't he have stayed so I wouldn't have to wonder?
