The Photo Album

Image by Simon from Pixabay

When Sylvia's grandmother passed away, she was tasked with going through her belongings. As she sifted through the dusty boxes and antique furniture in grandma's attic, she came across a large, leatherbound photo album. Sylvia brought it downstairs, blew off the layer of dust, and opened it up. She was surprised to find not old family photos, but studio portraits of strangers.

The first was of a young woman with her hair in pin curls, wearing a floral dress with puffy shoulders. She looked to be about 18, with a sweet shy smile on the sepia toned photo. Sylvia studied the girl’s delicate features and the date marked 1925 written in the corner.

She slowly turned the page to find a photo of a little boy in knickers and knee socks, laughing as he played with a hoop and stick toy. 1926, the date read. Sylvia flipped through photo after photo, some individuals and some families, all dressed in 1920’s era clothing and coiffed hairstyles.

Sylvia came across a striking portrait of a stylish young flapper, her eyes bright and bold. She wore a fringed dress and strings of beads, with a beaded headband over her short wavy bob. 1928. As Sylvia studied the girl’s fierce gaze, she felt a strange sensation come over her. The room began to spin and dissolve away.

Suddenly Sylvia found herself standing inside an old photography studio. She looked down to see she was wearing the flapper's beaded dress and holding a cigarette on an elongated holder. Across from her stood a photographer adjusting the lens on a large camera.

“Okay hon, let’s try some poses now,” the man said. Sylvia somehow knew how to tilt her chin at a coquettish angle and smirk playfully at the camera. The photographer counted down from three, and the bulb flashed brightly.

Just as quickly as she had been transported there, Sylvia was back in grandma’s living room, breathing heavily. She stared down at the photo album, open to the same flapper portrait. What had happened? It was as if she had momentarily become that girl - lived inside that captured moment in time.

Compelled to see what other worlds lay within the album, Sylvia turned the pages slowly. A 1930s family picnic, children in overalls laughing. A 1940’s wedding portrait, the beaming couple leaning into each other. With each new photo, Sylvia was immersed in that era, those lives. She rode in a classic convertible, danced in a USO hall, protested Vietnam. Like time traveling through a highlight reel.

Sylvia came across a 1970s prom photo of a geeky teenage guy with a ruffled tux and bad acne. As the awkward boy posed with a pained smile, Sylvia again felt the dizzy sensation. When she regained awareness, she found herself looking out through the boy’s eyes. The polyester ruffles itched her neck and the boutonnière pin poked her. She noticed kids snickering from across the room and felt herself blush. The humiliation was agonizing.

But after a few moments, a pretty girl approached and asked her to dance. As they swayed awkwardly to a slow song, the girl whispered in her ear, “Don’t let them get to you. You look really cute tonight.” Sylvia felt the boy’s pounding heart and shy smile. For one brief, shining moment, he felt pride and acceptance.

When Sylvia returned to the present, she realized what a gift the photo album was. More than just vintage pictures, these were portals into poignant moments, allowing her to actually feel what it was like to live in other times. Both the monumental and mundane moments that made up the human experience.

She made her way toward the back of the album, curious to see where she might travel to next. A wedding in the 80s, Sylvia felt the swish of taffeta and thrill of new love. A 90s family reunion, all denim and faded Polaroids.

Finally, Sylvia came upon a photo marked 2022. It was her grandmother as a young woman, beaming at the camera. But something about the smile seemed forced, the eyes sad. Sylvia braced herself as the now familiar dizziness came over her.

Suddenly it wasn’t her grandmother staring back from the mirror – it was her own reflection. Sylvia looked around at the modest little apartment. She felt the ache of worry in her stomach, uncertainty about the future. In her hands she held an acceptance letter to nursing school, her dream, but she had no idea how she would pay for it.

Sylvia heard her grandmother’s voice whispering, filled with resolve: “It will all work out, dear. Just keep smiling.” The wise words gave her hope.

As Sylvia returned to the present day, she closed the photo album, caressing the cover gently. Her grandmother had left her more than just old pictures; she had given her empathy, perspective, strength. Sylvia knew then that she would find a way to follow her dreams, just as others had through the decades. She just needed to have faith, and keep smiling.