The same face smiles up at me from every inch of the room, showing different stages as the face grew and matured to the beautiful young lady it is today, as my Nani puts it. There are stacks beyond stacks of pictures on the table separated by age on the table, other single images laid spread out through the room. These ones were the one my mom wanted blown up to be bigger or was dead set on putting in my scrap book. My mother, a short woman, sit’s at the table with a stack of pictures in her hands smiling and spending at least twenty to forty minutes on each picture reliving each second of that day, getting us no where. While my Nani, her mother, even a shorter woman sits next to her helps her relive those days, adding to the process another ten to fifteen minutes.


My mother holds up another picture shaking her head, “This one got damaged too, I wonder where we could go to get these redone, or whatever the technical term is.” I roll my eyes, I sit there in the middle of all of this being suck into this boring task for only because I am the one that is graduating. I set down my glass of Dr. Pepper and begin to tackle another stack of baby pictures of me, this one smaller than the first pile. Four flips in I realize why this pile is filled with toddler me, the moving speed demon that I was, well when I wasn’t falling down. It has been about four hours now, my hands are tired so I am barely even glancing at what lay in them, until I see this wild crazy amount of hair going everywhere. I do a double take, my eyes are sore and red so it takes me a minute to focus on who I am looking at, but clear as day there she is, there we are.


My Aunt Terry, standing there with her black leather jacket on that she always wore when riding on a bike, dark jeans and her famous white shoes that never seemed to be dirty, her blonde hair was going every which way, a smile lay upon her face but even more you could see a smile in her eyes. She looked so young and wild, care free, yet she wasn’t smiling at the camera. All her attention was on the little girl that gripped tight to her hands, me. I had tiny jeans on that almost matched hers, a tiny pink t-shirt with a flower, and shoes that were still white. I was learning to walk, and she was leading the way. I couldn’t help but smile and put that in a separate pile in front of me. I smile to my self for I never see her as much but, I think to myself, she shaped my life a lot, making foot prints for me since the beginning I guess you could say.


“Awe, that’s a good one,” my mom had finally finished her stack of photos, “here let me finish this stack, those ones are more recent, I know reliving something you don’t remember can be boring.” She took the rest of the stack from my hand and handed me a new one. I was confused at first at why she wanted that pile but then it soon became clear, as soon as I open then new package of pictures. These ones were from our just recent trip to Disney which she didn’t go to, so basically she wanted to become a sentimental sap over old pictures while I relived Disney.


I begin to flip picture after picture, beautiful sky after another, making me miss it more the farther I go through the stack. I come to a picture of me and my two sisters I stand in the middle, the youngest of the three. Our posture is straight for we tend to always try to be the tallest, my oldest sister has her hair in a high pony tail and is in a t-shirt, while I have a high bun and a cami on. My other sister has her hair down and a tank top. I smile because I’m shorter than the second youngest but taller than the oldest. We all look relatable and untreatable at the same time, I smile for no one makes the connection in less we point it out yet it is so clear that its there.
We stand together in a line, they have been by my side since day one, making sure I am safe and don’t fall. If I made my way around the room you would probably find the same picture pose with different clothing back drops and ages but, I’d still be in the middle they’d still be my older sisters watching my back.. The memories that the three of us will hold on to will keep me smiling at the worst times in my life. I take this picture and I put it next to the other, so they are lined up next with each other.


“Hey! Sweet. Disney pictures,” my sisters pop out of no where and take them from me and walk to the other room. I shout hey back at them and they turn and just stick their tongue out at me, a typical family thing to do. I sigh because it is not worth trying to get them back it is something I learned in my seventeen years, so I grab the next closes stack. Which happened to be a bunch of school friend pictures. I smile as I go through them, pictures of me and friends, some of just friends, and then I get to one of me and my best friend. It is us from prom, she was my date, she was also my girlfriend. The picture is simple us together my arms around her waist me kissing her cheek, her with this big idiot smile. She has looking stunning in her dress me wishing I could be in my shorts. She makes me try new things she makes me test my self, I make her takes risks we push each other. She supports me in every thing I want to do and is always there to listen to me, she isn’t part of my family yet, and to some she may never be “in” my family but no matter what she will always be my best friend, and be able to read me like a book.



I smile and take this last picture out of the stacks and place it on the table, I stand up and grab my glass. As I walk to the sink I finish up the drink in a gulp, and smile to myself. You never realize how much people mean to you, until you really think about your life, and you would never realize who those people were if you never saw it.