His Journey
He walked with the support of his walking stick; taking rests every few steps to catch his breath. It took him a while to get back to his chair, which everyone at the retirement home knew belonged to him. His daughter had come to visit earlier that day and had brought along an old dusty album that she had found in the attic a few days ago. “Thought you would want this,” she had said. “I’ll keep you busy.” He didn’t know what it was and when he had asked her she said, “you won’t remember, but it belonged to you.” She said that about everything, like it wasn’t obvious to him that he had a difficulty with his memory. She had had a call after that and excused herself saying her boss needed her immediately, leaving him behind with the album.
He now sat in the chair, with the album in his lap examining the soft cushiony maroon front cover of the rectangle book, trying hard to remember anything about it, just like he always did.
He opened the album and came across numerous photos of his younger self, but as usual he didn’t remember when they were taken, or whom the people standing next to him were. Friends perhaps? He turned pages, came across more pictures, which held no meaning to him. All he saw were faces and shots of places he assumed he might have once visited. He went through the whole album about 3 times but none of the pictures meant anything to him. He closed the album abruptly; angry that his memory hadn’t sparked, but out came flying a little Polaroid photo. He bent down, ignoring the pain in his lower back, to pick it up. He took a hold of it and turned it around to reveal a photograph of a huge creature, fish and men.
It was then, when he felt as if a shot of adrenaline had been injected in him. He held it in his shaky, wrinkly hands as he relived the whole experience. The cool water against his face, the majestic creatures, his hair that was once a rich brown color. He remembered the men who had been with him on that trip- Joseph, John and Christopher. He could almost taste the flavor of the beer they had had later that day to celebrate the end of a great journey. He remembered whales swimming past them at a distance and the radiant colors he had seen of the corals and fish. He wiped the teardrop that fell on the Polaroid, distracting him from his memories. This had been his first memory in 17 years.
Photo source : http://www.divephotoguide.com/underwater-photography-special-features/article/going-old-school-polaroid-underwater-photography/?fb_comment_id=999473893474172_1018555284899366#f15c2d49bbab2e4
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