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CELEBRATING CREATIVE EXPRESSION AT BAYLOR SINCE 1966

Periaktoi Writing Post

Volume 49
Issue 1

Single Visual Art Post

  • Essay
Memory Inside a Photo
Tristan Benedict

 

Memory Inside a Photo

My favorite towel was always the Scooby Doo one wrapped around me. My grandfather's arms are wrapped lovingly around me and my sister, Savannah. I feel the soft towl against my skin. The wind brushes my hair to the side and the warm sun attempts to bind me. Mom counts down for the photo, hidden behind the sleek black Nikon. We all grin and my grandfather chuckles in happiness. Savannah and I begin to laugh as well and my mom snaps the photo.

This photo will always be special to me for two reasons. First, lake days were always the best days in my childhood. This particular day nobody fought over money, and there were no squabbles over minute and meaningless topics like the right pair of shoes to wear to school. Even applying sunscreen was done without a word, as not doing it would result in staying inside staring at a wall. Finally my mom and sister came strolling down the steep hill carrying lake towels and bags full of food. They sat down and my grandfather and I slipped on archaic blue flip flops to prevent splinters and untied the beautiful white boat from the wood dock. Off we went on the gargantuan lake to a secluded spot where no other boats would pass. Lunch was tomato sandwiches, root beers, and grapes thrown at me and my sister by my mom while she relaxed in the shade of the forest green canopy while we floated in the clear green water.

After lunch the best time arrived. Tubing was always my favorite activity to do on the lake. Waterskiing and fishing were great, but only the big orange float could combine the thrill of speeding across the water at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour with the relaxation of sitting and talking to my sister about childhood interests like Bugs Bunny cartoons. That day will always hold a special place in my heart because I know I can never have a day like that again. A few years ago, my grandfather sold our cabin on the water. Every break that comes around I think of the lake, but it will never happen again. Though the boat is sold, the memory will always remain in my heart.