Journal Entry #1

Something truly significant to me in my life currently would probably have to be my pictures in general. Especially of those that are truly close to me, like pictures from growing up in New York. Each image has a special place in my heart because of the memories that I carry with it. There are pictures of me and people I never get to see anymore or rarely talk to. It's hard to move away from all your family and see them maybe once or twice a year. Each snapshot of the past brings a smile upon my face everytime I look at t hem. The first year I moved to North Carolina from New York I began to become upset when I couldn't call my best friend and go play with her. I could only talk to her on the phone, but I couldn't physically see her and giggle when we did something stupid. A day after school I reached for my huge box of photos and began to shuffle through. The images were caterogized by people, like me and my best friend, me and my grandparents, and them some sort of random. I pulled out an image in particular, one of me and my best friend Lindsay the week before I moved. We both had our hair the same way, pulled in super tight pig tails and wearing out childish bikini's posing on her pool deck. The next image was the same day and we had our arms around each other smiling so brightly with the mouths full of missing second grader teeth. Since I'm pretty much a sucker for any sort of meaningful song, I heard a song a the radio that jogged my mind of all the awesome times we had together dancing, laughing, playing, dressing up, singing, and having the best sleepovers ever. Even though I was just eight years old my heart pounded and my palms began to sweat. I wasn't sure what was going on until tears started to pour down my face and I was actually having deep feelings. For an eight year old, I think I experienced some type of powerful emotion that usually only grown ups can experience. I will never forget the good times Lindsay and I had, especially when I have my photos to take me back to those days.