The value of a printed memory.

When I was growing up, my mother had a wall of pictures in our house, all framed and hung, and right in the center was an oval frame with a photograph from my parents wedding. It was “the” wedding photo. I remember that picture, my moms long, lace veil and red hair, my dads brown pinstrip suit (it was the 70ies #trendsetter) I remember in great detail the toning of the photo, and how it changed over time. I remember the look on their faces and how happy they seemed. We didn’t have a lot of wedding photos around the house, I only remember the one, but it told me everything I needed to know about my parents, and how they felt about each other on the day that they were married.




(*Update; I found this picture of my parents in a box in their attic a year or so ago, I love it, its not the best picture, in fact, technically, its pretty bad! But it’s the one I keep on my desk, goes to show, the value of a photograph is not always in the quality of the actual image, sometimes it is in the sentiment. On the back, in my mothers handwriting, are their names and wedding date, turns out it’s the picture they posted in the paper.)







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