The Good Ones Vol.2

The Photo

This was it. This was the photo. The one when in years to come it will be found at the bottom of an old trunk or in a suitcase that’s travelled with her around the world. It will be surrounded by old polka dot dresses, faded sunglasses and notes and letters that have yellowed with age from friends and lovers alike. It'll be picked up by little hands, stared at, inspected, because the person in the photo looks really familiar but no... It can't be, can it?

It is.

And those little hands will run it up to her. She'll laugh when she sees it. Maybe she will wish that she kept the shirt that she was wearing, or she will remind herself to paint her nails electric blue and sparkly, once more. She'll send those little hands back where they came from and ask them to put it away because dinner is almost ready and its the final of the 30th season of MasterChef, which she had been waiting for all week.

And then, later that night, she will find herself being pulled up towards the photo and all the treasures that surround it. Slowly, she will peer inside. Her hands will take hold of the fabrics, and the letters; they will be soft to the touch, they will smell like the perfume she wore as a young women. She'll hold some of the dresses up to her body, in front of the mirror and dance around like she used to. She may even take a few and put in her closet, if she’s feeling brave enough. She'll try on the sunglasses and she'll remember how cool they her feel. She'll read the notes and letters all night. The silly school romances, the first true loves, the devotions of friendship, affirmations, inspirations, reminders to herself, the shopping list the she didn't throw away, the movie tickets, the show stamps, the receipts from the pub her friends were always at, the letters from times of trouble and the letters from times of triumph.

There will be other photos that she will look at first. Ones with friends where they are laughing at something or someone and it was luckily captured in a candid moment, drunken nights out that at the time she might have wanted to forget but now looks back with a fondness that overwhelms. There will be pictures of trees, buildings and places that no longer exist. There will also be pictures of people who are no longer around and those pictures will tug viciously at her heart strings but she knows now, that is okay. She will sit with all of these feels rushing through her veins. Until, finally, she comes back to the photo that was shown to her hours before. And there she is, with the wind in her hair. And for a moment, she swears she can hear the waves crashing, and the smell the salt and the sand, and the way the sun felt on her body. And she will clearly hear the voice of a boy whose shadow is peaking out ever so slightly in the bottom corner of the picture, telling her to smile.

So, she does.

Casey Anne Martin. Published June 2022

Image: Cherri Ingle, captured by Isaac Harley