The memories

[WP] As you’re sifting through old photographs, you accidentally rub a photo three times, lingering over the face of a loved one. Instantly, you’re transported back to the moment that photo was taken.

It was a Friday night, nothing too eventful but on that day, Andrew promised himself that it was finally time to go through his late mother's stuff. the grieving was hard. It took him months before he could finally come home from work and not break down from the emptiness their house now carries.

It took him months until he finally had the heart to go into his mother's room, look at her photos and stuff. He knew that he would need to put some of them away soon but something inside him wished that he didn’t have to. As if preserving the way things were would also preserve the memories they shared. He really thought it would be a lot easier since he and his mother already did this when his father passed during his childhood. He was greatly mistaken. This was harder. Much harder.

Each time he picked up a blouse from her closet to put in the box headed to donation, a fond memory came in mind “Oh, this used to be her favorite for sundays” And “ She barely wore this one”

He noted each and every article of clothing that he went through. It was heavy on his heart but within the night, he managed to clear out a majority of her mother’s clothing. As he moved on to the drawers to check his mother’s cosmetics, A small tin can caught his attention. It was the photo box they used to put photos in when he was younger.

As he opens the can, nostalgia floods him. All the photos were from the time his father was still alive. The times when his parents were young, from before he was born. Many of them were ones he’s never even seen until that point.

He raised each photo and admired them intently. A sad smile crossed his lips, and it was taking everything in him not to shed a tear. No, he reminded himself, it was enough grieving. He needed to get this over with without the break downs, without needing to resort to alcoholism again. He could do it.

“Why is this photo so dirty?” He muttered to himself slowly as he wiped the dirt off. Once barely removed it. Twice, some of the stains came off. Thrice. He had a strange feeling which caused him to black out. When he opened his eyes, The smiling face of his mother greeted him.

“Sweetie, you won!” His mother cheered on him as she ushered her up the stage.

“Won what?” He looked around, confused. The only time Andrew remembered winning something was when he took a chance at an art contest at their school.

“Here he is, folks, Andrew Gilbert with his piece ‘Patches'’” The crowd roared in applause as he got up on stage and was handed a certificate of participation.

Was he transported back in time? Was the photo a portal of sorts? His mother still looked so young at that moment. On a whim, he looked at his reflection on the framed certificate given to him. It didn’t come as a surprise to him anymore when he saw his 12 year old self through the glass. He had a gift. He thought to himself as he followed the directions of the photographer and stood as close to his mother as possible

“I can stay with you forever now, mom”

“What was that, Honey?” His mother looked at him in confusion, but he just looked at her with a grin that she couldn’t decipher.

“You, me, and dad. We’ll be together forever”

As the camera lights flashed, Andrew was once again returned to the present and in his hands was the photo whose memory he just re-lived.

“Don’t worry mom, dad. I’ll make sure we stay together like you both wanted.”

And with that, he carried the tin can to his room and locked the door shut.

And so I'm trying to see if I can still do fiction. Apparently I still can though it could use some more practice. Let's see if I can get a pace again or maybe my ore samples will kill me. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading!