It is difficult to find just one photo that can be labeled as the favorite. Growing up I remember wrestling with the old suitcase that held all of the family photographs. It was always fun to sit down with Mom and sort through them, looking and listening, as she told me stories.
There were so many little photo booklets and loose photos in that suitcase and each one told a story. They spoke of growing up poor. They spoke of family picnics. They spoke of sailors and soldiers. They spoke of backyard parties in the fall, with a fire in a metal barrel for warmth, polka music playing and people dancing. They spurred memories like the special diamond ring that Dad made me from a firefly when I was three or four. Oh, how it sparkled!
How in the world does a person select just one photo? As I think about it, a person doesn't have to have just one favorite photo and just maybe because I am struggling to find just one, I am that person. Maybe I am destined to sort through the images and tell the stories I was told...maybe it is time.
When the suitcase was opened, I would always go for the special photo that was rolled and had a ribbon tied around it. The picture exudes happiness. It is of my pretty mom when she was about fifteen or sixteen. It is one of my very favorite photos.