As the school days ease up and teachers
give in to the do-nothing mentality, all we students really
have to complete is a high school scrapbook for English
Ah. The senior legacy. Though mine is
pretty bland looking because of my lack of patience for
stickers and borders, the act of making the book itself
forced me to go through a whole lot of picture albums.
Thatís 12 years of scholastic soap operas and good times.
I guess I didnít really start using the
camera until high school. Because before then, it was all
family pictures, with scenes of me plump, jumping around,
and wrinkling my nose for the camera.
But I did have a thick collection of
image shots. 90s was the decade of milky backgrounds and
posing pals. I remember the coolest thing to do in middle
school was to go to the mall together (West Oaks back then,
because Katy Mills and First Colony didnít have image shots
yet) and take those glamour pictures. We would be mesmerized
and giddy, trying to choose from the array of colorful
backgrounds of dragons and butterflies and hearts and bears.
Then with a swipe of lip gloss and a hand
through the hair, all of us would pucker pretty for the
genteel poses. The next day in school, the pictures were
eagerly distributed to all our friends to show off in
wallets and binders.
Then came high school and the
accessibility of the digital camera. Film didnít need to be
saved for special occasions anymore, and so I snapped away
with abandon at every goofy moment.
These, were the real pictures, the
pictures of spontaneity. Friends with hands held to the
camera, sideways pictures by a laughing photographer, take
one take two take three.
And these specific moments with these
specific people brought back something vivid and real. A
memory shared suspended in time without past present future.
And for once, I stopped thinking about the exciting future
before me, and about the memorable past.
Four years of high school gone in a jiff.
It seemed like yesterday I rode nervously on the yellow
school bus to attend high school freshman year. With new
schedules teachers classes times, I was thrown into
something wonderful, challenging.
And as the years went by, as I went
through phases of innocence, impulsiveness, disillusionment,
independence, I grew I grew I grew.
There were the ups the downs the classes
the friends the late night epiphanies the early morning
groans, but all in all, high school, was the place where we
all came of age.
The mistakes made, the challenges taken,
the friendships formed, every action choice idea left its
mark. Days and days have pulled me back and forth, chewed me
down, spit me out, tugged me to pieces and assembled me back
together again. But through the whole tumultuous experience
something continuous was at work, something of a string that
knit me into the person with the ideas and the confidence I
And as I emerge exhausted from my
swimming recollections, I felt an inner peace. A walk down
memory lane isnít exactly a breezy stroll; flipping through
those albums was reliving them, one memory at a time, one
day at a time. Running, breathless, tangling and then
untangling myself to finally find the present again. It was
then that I realized the past wasnít just the past; it lives
breathing and alive in the present.