A picture is worth a thousand words. To a person in the picture, a picture is worth a thousand memories. I recently began unpacking boxes after moving into my new house and came across a box of family photos. Three specific pictures really stood out to me. A picture of my grandmother on her wedding day, a picture of my mother on her wedding day, and a picture of my mother and I on my seventeenth birthday. Looking at them, not only did I see the physical traits each generation have passed, but I recognized all the qualities we have gained from each other.

My grandmother on her wedding day was young and vibrant looking. She was only eighteen-years-old. Her dress was white and all lace. She had a beautiful sheer veil over her face. But that couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eye. She was so beautiful and radiant. There’s no denying how happy she was to be starting her life with my grandfather. A life that would soon include my mother and uncle as they began their journey together.

Jump ahead to May 19, 2000. My mother on her wedding day. She was twenty-four years old, with a five-year-old little girl and a three-year-old little girl. My sister and me. This particular picture is of my mother and my new dad. The two of them already said their vows and were officially newlyweds. The first piece of their wedding cake was just cut. They both have this sparkle, and you instantly catch this feeling of overwhelming joy. The love is literally “in the air”. My mother was dressed in a modern, all-white, jeweled, strapless dress with a headband of pearls holding her black curls in place. And my dad in all black was clearly amazed at the sight of his new wife. They had officially started a family together that started with two children but would soon become four. Today that sparkle that was in their eyes that day is still there. It’s been almost thirteen years since they were married and they are just as much newlyweds as they were in 2000.

The final picture I came across was a picture of my mother and me on my seventeenth birthday. It wasn’t the physical picture that stuck out to me. It was the memories and thoughts that stuck out to me. I kept looking at it and thinking how much my mother and I have in common. Not only our physical features of dark skin, hair, and eyes, but also who we are as people. Yes, some may mistake us as being sisters because we look so much alike, but people we’re more alike than most know. She taught me everything I know. From her, I’ve learned to be confident and follow my dreams. I know that the woman my mother taught me to be is the same woman that my grandmother taught my mother to be.

Looking at a picture isn’t always about the actual photo. It’s not necessarily about the physical description of the photo. What makes a picture important are the people in it. It’s easily to see, especially in a family, how strong the resemblance of each generation is. But what about the qualities each generation has passed? That’s something that, to a person, makes a picture worth a thousand words.