Faded Photos

Forgotten on the back of a shelf, I sit waiting for someone to pull me out of the darkness. Suddenly, light fills the dark corner of the shelf. But before I can enjoy the warmth of the light...I am falling off the shelf with all the other books. I land face-down, pages open; I hope none are bent.

"Danny! What are you doing?" a woman's voice calls out. A little boy giggles.

"Looking at books, Mama!” He stands tall like he's proud of the mess he made.

"But Danny, these aren't storybooks…. These are Mama's photo books. They hold photos from the past."

"Oh! I wanna see!" The little boy picks me up. His small fingers are sticky. He bends my covers back, and I feel my spine crack. His mother quickly but carefully pulls me from his hand.

"Woah! Danny, you need to be gentle. This book is older than you!" She gently closes the book and runs her hand over my cover.

The little boy points with his sticky fingers> "Who's that?" He points to the faded photo that is my cover.

His mother smiles. "That, Little One, is mama when she was little."

"You were little like me!" The small boy looks at his mother with eyes as wide as saucers. "Woah…. Can I see more?"

His mother giggles and sighs at her little boy. "Yes Danny, just like you. And sure, we can take a look." She pulls her son into her lab and sets me on top of his lap. "But we must be gentle." Slowly, she opens my pages.

It's been years since these photos have seen the light of day. I listen as she tells her son about the little house she and her parents lived in. I smile as the little boy is shocked by how young his grandparents look.

Then suddenly he hits a page hard with his still-sticky finger. "Mama, look! It's me!"

His mother seems to choke on the air and coughs. "No baby, that's me. I hadn't realized…."

"That's you, mama? You looked like a boy." "The little boy giggles, looking up at his mother.

She smiles at him. "Or you look like a girl," she teases her son. The little boy sticks his tongue out at his mother.

Poking his nose, she comments, "I'll need to send that photo to your Granny." They keep turning pages and looking at more photos. The little boy laughs at his mother's silly photo from her older years.

"Mama, what's that?" The boy points to a photo of his mother and a very messy-looking creature.

"Oh…. " Her voice is sad. "That's Mo, he was my parent’s dog. He'd followed me into a mud puddle." She gives a sad chuckle. "He was a good dog…." She smiles, seeming to get lost in memories.

"Mama? Can I get a puppy?" The little boy has turned the page and is looking at other photos of his mother and the dog Mo.

"Ah! Well, you’ll have to ask your father." She quickly turns the page.

"Oh!" She seems surprised by the photos she sees there. "I didn't know Mom kept these.” She laughs at something - but boy, wasn't nice to hear the sounds of laughter.

"What is funny, Mama?” The boy didn't seem to understand what made his mother laugh.

"When I was a little girl, your grandma had the prettiest dresses. I loved looking at them and touching them, but…" she pauses, seemingly for effect. "I was not to wear them."

"You wore them, didn't you?" the little boy giggles.

"Oh, I did more than wear them." She chuckles. "I tied the dress in knots and ended up ripping it, but I was so proud of myself and felt so pretty. So your grandma, rather than getting mad at me, took out her camera and did a photo shoot with me."

"So you didn't get in any trouble at all!" the little boy exclaims, in awe of his mother.

"Oh no. I was lectured later, but that memory stuck out to me more than the lecture did." She gives the boy a long hug, then he wiggles out of the hug and turns the page.

"A baby! Who's that Mama?"

His mother giggles. "That's your Uncle Bill. " The little boy touches the photo with his dirty fingers again.

"You don't look so happy in this photo, Mama."

"I wasn't happy about having a baby brother. I wanted a sister so badly. “ She sighs. "But he grew on me…." she giggles. She turns the page and tells stories of her and her brother's escapades of tree forts, pillow castles and movie nights. "Even though I wanted them to send him back, he ended up being my best friend."

"Can I have one Mama?" He looks at her.

Her hand went to her stomach. "One what, Little One?"

"A baby! Boy or girl, I don't care, I just want one."

His mother hid a smile. "Maybe soon, my little one." She turns the page, and they look through birthday parties, family trips, and school days. Then the boy stops his mother.

"Mama, is that you? You look like a princess!"

His mother giggles. "That's my grad dress."

"Who's the boy in the picture?" The little boy once again touches my pages with his sticky hands.

His mother laughs. "That's your dad! He was my date to grade."

The little boy bursts out laughing. "He looks so silly!”

"I guess we all did back then." She ruffles her son's hair.

“Were you and Dada in love in that picture?" He looks up at his mom.

She pauses for a moment. "Yes and no. He was my best friend. But we went to different colleges so we didn't date until we were done. And about six months later…." she flips the page. “He asked me to marry him."

The little boy looks at the picture. "Woah, that's a pretty garden!"

His mother giggles. "Yep, he picked our favourite spot in town. He wrote me a letter and got me flowers and this ring."

She shows her son her ring.

"Woah! It's pretty!"

"Your daddy has good taste,” she chuckles.

"And then….” She turns the page one more time.

"Your daddy and I got married." She had filled two pages of all the photos of the wedding day that I'd been keeping safe for her.

Her son giggles and laughs at all the funny pictures and talks about how nice his mother looked. Then they reach the end of my pages. "Where's the rest, Mama?"

She points to the other book on the floor. "Our other pictures are in these books. Or on mommy's laptop or phone." She giggled. "We can look at more later; for now we should clean up this mess."

The little boy stacks the other album on a pile of books next to his mother. She carefully puts all the others back onto the shelf. I wonder for a moment if I will get forgotten again. I've been pushed to the back of the shelf before.

But rather than putting me back on that shelf, she carries me to the table and takes pictures of the memory she found. Then she moves me to a different shelf. Will I be forgotten on this shelf? Maybe. But I don't mind because I helped someone to remember things today; what more could I want?

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