In preparation for my move back to Jordan, I have been going through a number of boxes that I have carted with me from house to dorm, to apartment, and to house again. It amazes me how many things I have accumulated over the years, from photos, movie stubs, tassels, stuffed toys, pens to certificates.
My pictures took me down memory lane from early childhood, wearing bunny Halloween costumes, to picnics with my family and then my days in Jordan growing up with my cousins, riding camels at Petra, wearing hideous uniforms (It was a green dress, cream shirt and black pants) and just having fun with the girls, to my American high school days in the student council, badminton team (yes, we had a team) to college where we celebrated birthdays in dorm rooms, was a part of the Student Ambassadors welcoming freshmen on to campus, graduation and then it mostly becomes a digital. Pictures cease to be printed unless they are super special (Most aren’t) and it’s just not as fun scrolling through my album on the computer, when you can’t touch, feel and hold the picture in your hand. Don’t get me wrong, some of my pictures have deteriorated so much that they are just not worth keeping but some still hold their shape.
I treasure my pictures because they take me back to a different time, sometimes I don’t remember and sometimes I do but it’s just nice to look and see how we have changed, gotten older, smiled more or less, changed style, my days without and with hijab and people who I have lost contact with, moved away, no longer talk to, and died (My their souls rest in peace). But then you find pictures of people who you still see, hold dear and remember fondly. Sometimes they are close and sometimes they aren’t. I love finding those pictures because you can share with the person and enjoy a good laugh or cry, remembering the good and bad times, highs and lows and all the things that go along with that picture.
In the end,