There is no better camera than the human eye. The detail held within those colorful circles of sight is beyond comparison to even the most detailed snapshots. Pictures tell the story of a memory in a single moment, of an object meant to be remembered. When you come across an old picture, it takes you back to a time, and you get more of a memory than just the moment then when the picture was taken; your mind is the ultimate picture.
I like to think of my mind in pictures; I look for things in my vision that make me happy, or something I have deemed memorable. My mind takes a mental picture; a memory stored. A moment in my life. Another second of my ever shortening life, stored away in my mind for safe keeping.
We had been watching a movie, but it was of no importance to us then. I don't recall what part it was on; hell, it could've been over and I wouldn't remember. I was too focused on him. The smiling face of a laughing person, their face illuminated not by the moon coming through their window blinds, but by the joy on their face; he had made fun of me and I was refusing to kiss him. I wanted to; I always did. He picked me up bridal style and dropped me onto his bed, for whatever reason he thought that would help. God, it was hard to not sit up and kiss him right then. I loved him; I knew I did. However, I was stubborn, so I continued to refuse to kiss him until he apologized. This process continued for several minutes, him picking me up or tickling me or doing something to try to make me laugh so he could then kiss me. I made some remark and I remember the face he made as if it were yesterday. I'll never forget that face.
Click.
My mother and I pulled up to the four-way stop and she pointed it out to me: another sunset. Such a small town, I had thought. What did we do to deserve such beautiful sunsets? But we had received the grand majesty of a sunset not only that night but several other nights before. My mother was always good at pointing out the beauty in nature; it was something I had always admired about her. I had watched that sunset as closely as I could; I wanted to take in as much of it as I possibly could before it darkened into a night sky. And as I gazed into that ever changing landscape, my mind wandered to all the beautiful things on this earth. I smiled, in spite of myself, and the light turned green.
Click.
Another regular day of school. I went to a small school that was located about fifteen minutes from anywhere; not much happened. My day had consisted of note-taking and, most presumably, test-failing. It was sixth period, my last actual class of the day. I vaguely remember persuading myself that if I could just get through this class, everything would be okay. I would be one hour closer to getting back home, where I was always the most depressed or the most myself, occasionally both. The teacher was of no help either; he had no idea what he was doing, not to mention he was a total jerk most of the time. Everyone hated him, in varying degrees. However, he did attempt to make the class simple for us, and he was currently discussing something completely irrelevant with one of the boys in that class. I'm not sure why, but he laughed right then, and he looked genuinely happy. A face of a man who was legitimately at peace with his place in the world. Even if for only a moment, he wasn't worried about the world, or his own personal problems, or even if we were on schedule with our note-taking. He just laughed, and I caught the perfect sight of his face in its full laughing extent.
Click.
The rain seemed heavier under the fluorescent lights of the tennis courts. It couldn't have been earlier than 9 P.M.: not early, but certainly not late for any of us. We hadn't thought to check the weather, we just decided to go. We didn't even do anything in particular; we simply had fun. The rain started off as a few drops. We thought nothing of it. It continued to get heavier; we continued to not care. Soon we were caught in the first real rain our small town had seen in weeks, and it was coming down hard. The ground became slick, but our faces never lost our smiles. We had forgotten our problems, our depression, anything that could've stopped us from smiling just then. That's when I looked up at it: the quick droplets of water drumming down upon my face in a repetitive motion. I could see it all, the millions of water drops coming down onto the asphalt through the bright lighting of the tennis court. It was simple; it was beautiful; it was cold. We all got sick, but I like to think that it was worth it. To make such a simple memory, with so much meaning behind it, was worth it to me.
Click.
