This is my entry for the #monomad challengue đź–¤
Today my grandmother showed me some small photos, the kind that at first glance might seem old or unimportant. But they weren’t. To her, those photos were living memories. As she held them carefully, she explained that photos used to be looked at differently, that they weren’t rushed through like they are now. You had to stop, look at them slowly, bring them close to your face, and take care of them as something valuable.
Hoy mi abuela me mostrĂł unas fotos pequeñas, de esas que a simple vista pueden parecer viejas o sin importancia. Pero no lo eran. Para ella, esas fotos eran recuerdos vivos. Mientras las sostenĂa con cuidado, me explicĂł que antes las fotografĂas se miraban distinto, que no se pasaban rápido como ahora. HabĂa que detenerse, mirarlas con calma, acercarlas al rostro y cuidarlas como algo valioso.
While I was looking at the image, she was already somewhere else. Her mind had traveled back to the exact moment when that photo was taken. She started telling me who was there, what they were doing, how she felt that day. Her voice changed, becoming softer and more emotional. Her eyes shined, as if everything was happening all over again. It was incredible to realize that, even after so many years, those memories are still alive in her heart.
Mientras yo observaba la imagen, ella ya estaba en otro lugar. Su mente habĂa viajado al momento exacto en que esa foto fue tomada. EmpezĂł a contarme quiĂ©nes estaban ahĂ, quĂ© estaban haciendo, cĂłmo se sentĂa ese dĂa. Su voz cambiĂł, se volviĂł más suave, más emocionada. Sus ojos brillaban, como si todo estuviera pasando otra vez. Fue increĂble darme cuenta de que, aunque han pasado tantos años, esos recuerdos siguen intactos en su corazĂłn.
In that moment, I understood that a photo is not just an image. It is a memory kept safe. It is joy, it is nostalgia, it is returning to a time when you were happy. For my grandmother, that photo wasn’t something from the past. It was a small piece of her life that still lives inside her. And the most beautiful part was seeing how those memories still make her smile.
En ese momento entendĂ que una foto no es solo una imagen. Es un recuerdo guardado. Es alegrĂa, es nostalgia, es volver a un tiempo donde se fue feliz. Para mi abuela, esa foto no era algo del pasado. Era un pedacito de su vida que todavĂa vive dentro de ella. Y lo más bonito fue ver que esos recuerdos aĂşn le sacan una sonrisa.
It made me think about how little we value photos today. We take so many, every day, but we rarely really look at them. Without saying a word, my grandmother taught me that an image can take you back to a special place, to a moment that marked your life. That memory doesn’t completely disappear—it just waits for something to wake it up.
Me hizo pensar en lo poco que hoy valoramos las fotos. Tomamos muchas, todos los dĂas, pero casi no las miramos de verdad. Mi abuela, sin decirlo, me enseñó que una imagen puede llevarte a un lugar especial, a un momento que marcĂł tu vida. Que la memoria no se pierde del todo, solo espera algo que la despierte.
I’m very grateful to have shared that moment with her. To listen to her, to watch her remember, to feel her emotion. And I understood that when she is no longer here, those photos will keep speaking for her.
Agradezco mucho haber vivido ese momento con ella. Escucharla, verla recordar, sentir su emoción. Y entendà que cuando ella ya no esté, esas fotos seguirán hablando por ella.
