There are pictures of me, too, but not many. I go from infant to about ten years old in one fell swoop. Maybe it's because I was the third child, and they were sick and tired of keeping a catalog of life. Maybe it's because they forgot. It's nobody's fault, and it's not a big deal, but it's a little depressing all the same. A photo says, You were happy, and I wanted to catch that. A photo says, You were so important to me that i put down everything else to come watch.
The narrator reflects on the scarcity of photographs from their childhood, which only capture a brief span from infancy to around ten years old. This lack may stem from being the third child in a family that grew weary of documenting every moment or perhaps forgetting to take pictures. While the narrator acknowledges that it’s not a significant issue, there’s a sense of melancholy associated with the absence of visual memories.
Photographs serve as tangible reminders of joy and importance, suggesting that the moments frozen in time reflect how valued a person is. The author expresses a desire for more photos, symbolizing the wish for affirmation of their childhood happiness and significance to their family, as captured through the lens of a camera.
