By G.G. Gallagher, TIWP Student

I write what I know. And what I know are the moments with you. I’m sure I could find plenty of other things to write about, but those moments I have pictures for. When I take pictures, it’s because I want to remember. I fear forgetting. So those big moments, those beautiful places and adventurous trips, I have photos for that. But how could I ever capture those moments with you in a single photo. Or many photos. 

I’ve tried, time and time again. But the beauty of those moments escape the camera lens. For how could a camera capture the thoughts, the feelings, the smells, the sounds or the emotions that come with those moments. They can’t. They simply could never capture every detail of those moments. And maybe I’ll forget. But how could I ever? 

I have plenty of photos, some from before or after or even during those moments with you. So I won’t forget, because if I do I can look at those photos and be reminded. 

This photo of us is one that I treasure. When I look at it I am taken back to that night. I can remember the time before that photo, and the time after. I can feel the cold night air nipping at my exposed skin, and how the bitter bite of the water became comforting in contrast to the chill of the gentle breaths of wind. I can remember running with our friends along the beach, throwing the glowing disk and screaming Chappell Roan songs at the top of our lungs. I can remember standing in the water, talking with Gwyn, hearing you come over and feeling you take my hand. Your hand was warm. It’s always warm. Whether that means mine are always cold or if you’re just really good at maintaining body heat I’ve always wondered. Ultimately it doesn’t matter. I remember staying with you after Gwyn took that photo, I remember hearing her start to walk back up the beach with the others. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to stay with you down on that beach. I never wanted to let go of you, to leave that warm and comforting embrace. 

You are my happy place. I don’t tell you enough how beautiful you are. I’ll work on that. You mean the world to me, and I wouldn’t trade our moments for anything. There are so many more I could write about, so many more I want to write about. Could be more from that weekend, or yesterday, or the countless moments I’ve spent with you since all the time ago. 

I could write about your smile, or your eyes, or you. Just you. And I could be content. I love you. More than I could put into words. Which is strange because I seem to write an awful lot of words. But there’s not a word in existence that could convey what I feel to you anymore than some I could string together to try and tell you. Which is annoying. So very annoying. 

So I guess that’s my answer to your question. Why do I take photos? I take photos to remember. Because I fear I’ll forget.