Archiving Memories

My neighbor attends and she recently attended her prom. As I watched the limo pulling up to her home, the look on her face was priceless. I remember that look—the look of anxiousness and invisibility.

My prom date attended Northwestern and since my friend was dating his friend it made it easy to travel as a group. Those were the times when I felt invincible. I had no real bills, no real worries.

One day I sat inside my grandmother’s home looking through old photos. I ran across a photo of me and my prom date. The day of my prom, my grandmother visited me at my mother’s home and gave me a huge hug. At that time it was just another day. If I knew then what I know now ... Well let’s just say I would probably still be in my mother’s house hugging my grandmother.

Now here I am almost 10 years later. I am no longer attending prom and those memories have become archived in my database of life. The experiences that you share with a loved one—whether they are living or not—are what make you who you are today. I look at the teenagers today and they remind me of myself. There is a reflection of all of us within each other.

Ever since my grandmother passed, I have had a chance to really sit down and think. Although I try to bury myself in work I cannot help but think about growth and family. I look around me and even my surroundings have changed. Things have evolved. Life moves on and you live with the war wounds. Moments such as a simple hello or a hug goodbye mean everything when you’re no longer getting them.