The frame lay heavy in my hands, the dust from it settling onto my fingertips. It takes a couple of swipes before I am able to see what lies beneath the glass. It is worth the time to do - it is a picture of my grandparents from 24 years ago. My grandmother is gorgeous as always, her brown hair whisked by the wind, and my grandfathers’ is barely contained underneath his hat. There lies a mountain behind them and their dog right between them. It is a beautiful still of their life in that moment and it almost overcomes me. It is a simple picture, but one I am grateful for. One that encourages me to reflect.
I sit on the blanket at the end of the couch, intending to do just that. This blanket is also special though, as it is the same blanket I have wrapped up under on Christmas at 8 years old. The same one I used last year when I spent the night. I sit on this blanket, next to a bookshelf. This shelf is where I found that picture, a discovery of nostalgia and love. This shelf is home to even more pictures and even more little pieces of my grandma. See, she collects bear statuettes, cups, and stuffed animals. Bear anything, just about. Those have also made their home on that bookshelf.
Upon beholding all the love in the glass, metal, and cloth of their home, I reflect on their lives and their journeys. What did my grandma go through to be sitting on that mountainside by the love of her life? What all did my grandpa overcome to be the one sitting by her? What about this picture specifically made it frame worthy, to them? It made me appreciate their individuality, their character, their stories. My grandma doesn’t have to love bears that much, but she just does. My grandpa doesn’t have to gift her custom jewelry and bear item galore, but he just does. It doesn’t have to mean so much to me to witness this, to witness the proof of their love, but it just does.
That picture, taken before my arrival into the world, represents so much, conveys so much, with nothing by pixels and a date to relay these things. I can’t help but be in awe. The picture of my dad, my brother, and I sitting in front of our old trailer, the one of Buddy and Sally, the one of Toby and I on a couch when I was sick.
Behind all these pictures, all these adorable novelties, are stories that tell us how someone we loved went from who they were then, to who they are now. Having the privilege to have a plethora to admire makes me only more grateful for them. My dad was once 23 years old and terrified too. My grandparents were once first time parents and doing their best. My mom was once just a granddaughter posing for a picture with her grandma. The family dog, though gone, is still treasured and honored. The significance and importance of these items are not something you speak on, but something you just feel.
My hope one day is that my daughter, or hers, can stop by to keep me company now and again, provide some companionship and conversion. I hope they too pick up a dusty frame. That they can see a picture of myself or my family and wonder how this picture came to be. That they can ease their burdens knowing I once was in their shoes too.
That picture, and the statuettes, and my grandpas coins, and my dads cards, are all a part of our stories. Theirs and mine. That picture, even after 24 years, stands strong and just as beautiful - just as meaningful. That is the beauty of love (and a good frame).
With a prevalence of digital memory keepsakes, it is easy to neglect these items. But a picture on a phone can’t be held and passed around and collect dust. They cannot be admired at all times, and they can’t be paired with a cute, tiny bear right beside it. I hope that I can keep this alive for my children, and theirs, and so forth. I have stories of my own I would like to share with them, and stories of my family that are just as worthy of being heard and treasured. I want to keep this part of love and family alive, so that a moment of love or a show of character then, can be that very same thing now and forever.
What can I say? I love knick knacks.