Every photo has a story, and life is made up of these stories that have happened or are about to happen. Those old photos inadvertently revealed the thoughts of time, telling about what seemed like a past year.
My earliest photo was taken when my eldest sister went to the second aunt’s house in Qinghai. Because the second aunt was ill and no one was taking care of it, the mother sent the elder sister to the second aunt’s house. It is said that it took seven days and seven nights to get there by train. The eldest sister missed home for the first time and wrote a letter asking for a photo. My mother came to the town to take pictures. My father, mother, uncle, and uncle sat on a stool. I sat in my mother’s arms, my cousin sat in my arms, and my cousin leaned between my father and uncle. , Three sisters and cousins stand in the back row, with the background of my home’s bamboo garden. After the photos were taken out, we scrambled to see that the adults were taking pictures naturally. We were stubbornly small, staring dumbly at the camera, and the cousin closed his eyes. Can’t stop counting him, saying that everyone else’s eyes are open, just can you close your eyes? The cousin was counted and cried, didn’t eat dinner, and went back to sleep. This two-inch black and white photo was sent to the elder sister the next day. At the end of the year, the elder sister returned home and brought it back. It has been hidden by me. That year, the eldest sister was less than twenty years old and was the girl with the biggest eyes in the village.
The second photo was taken at the graduation of elementary school. A photo came from the town, and a red cloth was pasted on the soil wall outside the classroom. We sat on the stool in front of the red cloth, held our heads up, stared at the cameraman, looked at the shutter flash, and our head picture. Loaded upside down. This photo posted on the elementary school graduation certificate leaves a lot of fond memories of my elementary school years. It’s just that the campus surrounded by green trees and clear water is nowhere to go.
In the winter of the second day of the second year, I worshiped with the party secretary and entertainment committee member in my class as brothers. After walking around the beach, I went to the photo studio in the city to take a two-inch photo, washed three, and kept one for each person. All three kept their students’ heads at that time, because they were thin, their mouths were all convex, and they looked ridiculous. At that time, the hearts of the three young men were filled with the ambition of composing Jinlan, going to life, and building a career. Unexpectedly, they have gone their separate ways and become ordinary people who are working for their own small families. There is a line in “To Our Ending Youth”: “A person will really become what he once hated.” We will be tampered with by time sooner or later, and we will not even recognize ourselves. Fortunately, there are old photos that can testify to those days and feelings. This photo has faded long ago, but that friendship has been so new in the years and has not gone away.
I took the graduation photo of junior high school alone in the photo studio next to the school. Wearing a yellow military uniform, his lips were clenched, showing a stubborn appearance against the world. Whoever looks at my junior high school diploma will laugh at me with a stupid face. This photo has been sent to many classmates. For example, today’s classmates can hardly recognize me based on this photo.
These black-and-white photos, which were produced in years without colorful photos, are extremely precious memories to me. Flip them out, and pull out a series of pasts. Those quiet times stood in front of each other, without talking or walking. The faces in the memory smile in the wind, never change, clear and shallow, full of memories.