I am not sure how old you are… I know you are at least thirty. You have been to family parties and distant counties. I look at your picture from 1984. Held in the hands of mother, my beautiful mother. Is that why I love you so much? Red and worn, smelling of old leather, faintly vintage --you once held her film and now you hold my digital canon. Memories into images--all the tangible moments of our lives captured forever as evidence.