Building an Empire
Christina
I flipped the page again. And again. And again.
Yet no matter the number of times that I turned the worn pages of my family photo album, still there were no images of me as a newborn. While my younger sister’s childhood was well documented through photos and film, mine was shrouded in mystery.
I guess it is no surprise then when I explain that my parents were pretty poor when I was born in Pennsylvania. They had just immigrated to America to pursue their doctorate degrees, and the matter of the fact was that cameras were simply luxuries that they couldn’t afford. Besides, to them, living through memories were more precious than capturing them.
Thus, today, I relive these moments through words and stories instead: stories like copying my classmates in preschool because I didn’t understand the teacher’s English instructions or making up numbers like “one hundredty one” because I didn’t know how to count over a hundred yet. Silly anecdotes like these fill in the gaps of my childhood memory. And where there was once a gaping hole in my life, now there are patches of warm laughter, wild adventures, and unwavering love.
While the saying goes that a picture is worth a thousand words, can a single picture provide context and paint a scene so vivid like a story can? That’s why to me, words will always mean more: more than a moment in time, more than a snapshot captured in the blink of an eye, and surely more than just memories.
Words reconstructed the fabric of my childhood and ultimately, built the empire upon which I stand.
I flipped the page again. And again. And again.
Yet no matter the number of times that I turned the worn pages of my family photo album, still there were no images of me as a newborn. While my younger sister’s childhood was well documented through photos and film, mine was shrouded in mystery.
I guess it is no surprise then when I explain that my parents were pretty poor when I was born in Pennsylvania. They had just immigrated to America to pursue their doctorate degrees, and the matter of the fact was that cameras were simply luxuries that they couldn’t afford. Besides, to them, living through memories were more precious than capturing them.
Thus, today, I relive these moments through words and stories instead: stories like copying my classmates in preschool because I didn’t understand the teacher’s English instructions or making up numbers like “one hundredty one” because I didn’t know how to count over a hundred yet. Silly anecdotes like these fill in the gaps of my childhood memory. And where there was once a gaping hole in my life, now there are patches of warm laughter, wild adventures, and unwavering love.
While the saying goes that a picture is worth a thousand words, can a single picture provide context and paint a scene so vivid like a story can? That’s why to me, words will always mean more: more than a moment in time, more than a snapshot captured in the blink of an eye, and surely more than just memories.
Words reconstructed the fabric of my childhood and ultimately, built the empire upon which I stand.
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