Making memories

Part I
It is a record, my record of memories
that take me through time
My photo album is more than its name beholds
It is my connection to my past,
to my history,
to my heritage.
It tells a beautiful tale,
My family, present and past are cast.
The recollection of these captured moments
The constant click of the camera come flooding back.
Like a sudden waterfall of precious moments,
before it returns to a stream of forgotten memories.
It is like I am walking through a magical corridor, with endless doors along it.
Each door containing an ever so precious mystical milestone in my life and in my history.
Each door containing a photo.

Part II
Mother cries,
not accepting the fact of how fast time has passed.
Reminding me of how the ocean refuses to be taken away from the shore.
An idea sparks in my mind
like how the photos spark in my heart.
Down in a dusty box
which reminds me of a world of forgotten things
or a chest of hidden treasure.
I find it.
I find the tool that creates moments and memories
to look back on.
Look back and laugh
Cringe
Cry
Smile
Click Click. Immediately the chorus begins again:
What are you doing?
Only two words can cover the duty of fitting the role of answering that question.
Making memories.