Glossy Memories

Sorting through old photographs, not the kind that get digitized and scrolled through but the glossy ones. I suppose they’d be called hard copies now. But that’s too rigid a name for the memories that they hold. When I hold the photo in my hand, feel the cracks in shiny 

old paper, see my grandparents 

standing outside their neat home or see my Grade 6, and I’m only guessing, class with 

our grins, silliness or scowls, 

I am suddenly back in my hometown. 

Back with those school kids, chalkboards 

and school recitals. School kids that went 

skating in winter and played Kick the Can 

or Green Ghost in summer, the rules kicked 

aside with time. Then I’m back walking the 

dusty alley to main street, past the locker plant 

and another block to my grandparents tidy 

home with sweet peas and white alyssum 

and so many flowers in the front. At the back 

a well kept, and fruitful vegetable garden. 

Memories that may be different from my 

siblings, but I’m hoping they are as sweet. 

Rather than digitize these memories, I decided 

to leave them as they were in place and time.

“Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.”

~ Dorothea Lange, documentary photographer and photojournalist

(1895 - 1965)