The other day I was cleaning up a wardrobe where I keep my old album photos, those with paper photos and not images in a computer or television screen. I don’t know why, but I prefer paper photos, they made me feel the things that they show more near, easier to remember, so that they have more sentimental value for me.
Well, as I was saying, I was ordering the wardrobe when I ran into the albums and, irremediably, I took them, giving up the cleaning, and started to have a look at their pages, filled with memories. When I finished and I was putting the albums back in their place, I found in the shelf an envelope. I opened it and found some other photos that I keep there because there wasn’t room in the albums. It had been years since the last time I watched that photos and I couldn’t even remember many of them, so that one really touched me and my eyes filled with tears in just a second. That picture was taken during a distance cousin’s wedding. You can see the smiling bride in her white dress and also my mother and father with her. But there’re also two little girls, hand in hand, looking at the camera happily. That look was what almost made me cry.
Of course, the two kids in the picture were my cousin and me. She used to be like a sister for me, I grew up with her and she’s in many of my best memories of chilhood, those that makes you feel happy and safe, that you wish you could go back in time and live over and over again because then things were so easy. But, on the other hand, we were always very different, and when we got older, started to lose each other. At first, I didn’t notice it, but when I did, it was too late. Sometimes, when I talked to her, trying to bring her back with me, I thought that I had recovered her, but not. And, eventually, we rarely talked. She made her life and I made mine. And there’s no one left to blame.