The Photograph: A slice in time

I sat there, minding my business, trying to appear, even if I wasn’t quite busy as I looked, when my mumma handed me a photograph which she had come across during one of her many draw cleaning sessions.

As I stared at the photograph that she had given me, I tried to recollect the morning can’t time when it was taken, rummaging through the deep recesses of my mind. But then it wasn’t about the time when the photograph was taken. It was people who were in it , the ones staring back at me, who may or may not be smiling for the camera.

These were the people who I so loved and cherished, people to whom I credit who I am today. People who taught me so much about life, about love, about family. People who I would sadly never see again.

And yet they continued to live on in this photograph, immortalised on this piece of glossy paper. It was as if this photograph had carved out a slice in, a moment for all eternity.

And though the people in the photograph had long since passed on to a better place, they continued to live on, as they did, etched on the walls of mind.

So as I placed the photograph aside, I just smiled, cherishing the memory that the photograph had made, a slice of time captured for all eternity.