Pictures

My aunt has a picture of my grandparents in frocks. They look so oddly cute with their heartfelt laughter captured so beautifully. I asked her if I can take it and she said "no" with a smile.

So I took a picture of it and got a print out later to keep as a memory. It's been years since I have opened the picture, it still lays in my album with other pictures, which I had picked along the way of life as memories.

Yesterday when I was cleaning my bookshelf, I found the albums in my "Read them already" shelf, which has a door on it. Not a speck of dust had settled on the books or the shelf but the album was out of place as if it was trying to remind me that it's not a book and I need to get its pages turned again.

I sat down to flip through it, I was noticing new details about everyone, whose pictures I had collected.

Like how a mole on my mother's left cheek has grown diametrically.

My grandmother had grown thin over the years.

There are huge folders in my laptop of pictures I took during my travels to use them in the future but they still wait patiently for me to pick them up someday.

My camera has captured some moments of summer vacations and my favorite cousins

One of my cousin's picture never turns out good because he has this habit of blinking frequently.

Then one of my uncles keeps shaking his head, involuntarily since he was a kid.

My father's mustache have turned grey, but his hair color is still jet black.

So many people from the album are out of touch, I have lost memories with them. 

Reshuffling through old pictures reminds me of how I have grown out of places, people and relationships with beautiful details.