Old Photographs

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I look at old photographs and I am reminded of days long gone, of the happy times as well as the sad times, and of the people who graced my life and with whom I shared a laugh or two, or a tear and a sigh. 

I look at old photographs and a smile crosses my lips, as laughing and smiling faces greet me, making me wonder where their owners might be now, and if they are doing fine. I reminisce the times we spent together and my smile turns into a grin as I notice how silly we acted or looked then, and I wonder what on earth made us do the things we did, and wear the clothes we wore. 

I look at old photographs and a sigh escapes my lips, as I come across loved ones who have left this world, and I pray for their soul, as I am once again reminded of mortality, of how fleeting life on earth really is. 

I look at old photographs and I am transported back to the past and I become a child again — free and innocent, trusting and guileless; and the tall buildings and the wide streets become lush trees and wide fields; and those fellows hurriedly walking ahead of, as well as those lagging behind me, become the friends with whom I played hide and seek and patintero; and those annoying sounds coming from factories and buses and cars become the sound of infectious laughter from kids having a good time. 

I look at old photographs and I see myself as the diligent student that I was, burning with determination to better my world and that of my loved ones, full of hopes for a brighter future, bursting with dreams of finding — and marking — my own place under the sun, and jam-packed with ideas to right the world. 

I look at old photographs and I see myself as a young woman, having her first taste at disappointments, deceit, and betrayal, and taking them all in, learning invaluable lessons from them, and letting them make her hard enough to withstand future tribulations, but soft enough to still know about compassion.  

I look at old photographs and I realize I’ve made a long way from the starting point of my journey, but still far away from the finish line.

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I look at old photographs and a soft prayer escapes from my lips as I thank God for the memories and for the gifts He has showered me through the years.