Last summer, my friend drove me home on an unsuspecting, sticky summer evening. She slowed the car down, handing me her phone; she asked me to take a picture of the sunset, so I took a dozen to make sure there was one that she liked.
I spent that entire summer with her. Nearly every waking moment was a new adventure; I had never been to the beach so much in my life. Evenings were spent talking, and the mornings were spent trying to convince her that coffee isn’t disgusting. We took pictures of everything: bonfires, sunsets, macchiatos, lakes, and, of course, together.
Whenever I hang out with her now, I leave with new pictures of the sky: the clouds, colors, and sun spreading across the screen on my phone and digital camera. I never understood the point of having so many pictures of the same thing until I met her. She taught me that you can see the same thing thousands of times and always find beauty in it, even when beauty and joy are hard to find in other places.
I have always been told that a picture is worth a thousand words. She taught me that every picture and post is a memory that I cherish. They each remind me of every adventure and moment that I spend with my friends and family.
Now, I have over 10,000 pictures in my camera roll that each tell an important, unique story. They tell the story of winter guard competitions around the state, the first time I slept on a boat, brunch dates with my friends, and more.
A picture truly is worth a thousand words, for it tells stories and represents untold, forgotten memories. They remind you of what truly matters when it’s hard to remember in the midst of the fog of life. Scrolling through my photo album has reconnected me with childhood friends and prompted a whole trip down memory lane.
A simple snapshot of a moment freezes it forever; it holds the smiles, the fluttering leaves of an autumn background, the piece of hair that wouldn’t lay quite right, and the connection between the people taking the picture.
Although most of my pictures are of my friends and me, my favorites will forever remain my hundreds of photos of the sky. They hold the conversation behind the lens in a state of limbo in my memory: forcing my dad to stop in a parking lot while I aimed my phone at the sky, laughing until I cried in the car under a beautiful sunset, and writing alone at the park at dusk.
I take photos of the sky every chance I get. I have an album filled to the brim with hundreds of pictures of clouds, sunrises, and sunsets. I take photos with those I love at every opportunity. I have countless pictures and videos with my friends now.
The photo album on my phone is overflowing with love from every beautiful thing I see—in front of and behind the camera.
