A Photograph

I am five years old and my small round face is lit up by two round open eyes full of wonder. A picture book lies open in my hand. My little sister is beside me and she is laughing wildly at someone or something. Her small mouth is wide open and she looks unimaginably happy. She is small and sweet and an adorable love. Her wet hair is parted equally on both sides of her small head. For a child her age, she has deep black hair gracing her shoulders. I trace my fingers across the photograph taken many years ago when we were small, and I have no recollection of my love for her. Now, in this very moment, I find the urge to reach out to her, pick her up in my arms and kiss her soft cheeks. I want to tell her, that I will love and protect her forever. There is so much love now, that this moment seems unbearable and my heart might just overflow. My sister will be here tomorrow with my beautiful niece and I will never be able to tell them how much I love them, but I hope they will know, they will understand.

The photographs are old and the albums in which they lie are older and worn out. When I told my wife that we need to shift them to a newer one, she warned me, that a new home might not be a better one. Looking through the photographs, I feel that the smile of my sister is so much now. It is all now. She is now. Who lies to me? Is it the photograph or time or is it just my love for her? Not a love that has come now, out of nowhere, but the love that lay hidden inside me beyond my understanding.