I have taken with this piece here.’ At this point I
was beginning to get annoyed. I hadn’t asked for
a lesson in his personal photography. But then he
said something that changed my outlook, maybe
the same way it changed yours when I said it.
“It’s magic.” Grandfather adopted a vague
foreign accent when he said this and waved his
hand. “He told me that the camera took magic
pictures.”
Grandfather looked down at him, a smile on his
face. “I know, I know.”
He would never forget Grandfather’s face as he
had explained the camera to him. There were two
rolls of film, he said, film that would only work
for this camera. It was important to conserve said
film, because the only man who knew how to
make it was no longer alive. “And that was when I
got the camera,” the old man laughed.
“But how does that make it magic?” He had
asked. None of this was making any sense.
Grandfather touched his nose. “Ah, but that’s
where the believing comes in. I don’t expect you
to, yet. I certainly didn’t. But it works.”
“What works?”
“The key is to take good pictures, of course. A
camera is a camera, even a magic one. Keep it in a
safe place, maybe. Or maybe keep it with you, at
all times. And then, when you come across something that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt
you want to preserve, a moment that is perfect…”
Grandfather sighed, a transcendent smile on his
face. “Then, you take the picture.”
“But… that’s it? I don’t understand.”
“No, no. That’s not it.” Grandfather pulled
out two photographs from his pocket, old, black
and white, and wrinkled. He kept them both
face down as he presented them to his grandson.
“These are two pictures that I took.”
The little boy in the memory reached out a
hand to take one, but his hand was violently
slapped away. “No!” Grandfather’s face was red.
“You mustn’t look, not at any pictures that you
don’t take. Never. And never allow anyone else to
see your photos.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s where the magic is. Once you’ve
taken the photos, that is it. You’ve got the magic.
Because, you see, that’s the point. You can revisit
these pictures, these places, these moments…
You close your eyes, picture the moment, think
hard about everything that went into that picture,
then… You open them.” Grandfather smiled, all
signs of his anger gone. “You open your eyes, and
you’re there. Again.”
Those words, spoken to that little boy, hadn’t
meant as much to him as they did to the man
holding the old camera now. Nor had what
Grandfather said next: “But be careful.
“This isn’t memory tourism. You don’t simply
relive these moments, you become that man
again. You live everything again. Everything. Your
whole life, maybe.”
Your whole life. The little boy who received
this gift struggled to wrap his mind around that
concept, all the while deciding whether or not to
believe his crazy Grandpa. “You’ve done this?” He
challenged. “You went back to a memory, and you
relived your life?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
Grandfather shook his head. “That’s for me. I
went back, and I experienced all the good that
comes with that. And all the bad. But I can’t tell
you how or why; this decision is yours. Use it if
you want, and discover for yourself. Or don’t. I
can’t tell you more, because nothing more was
told to me.”
And with that, Grandfather ended the talk. He
set him off of his lap and left the room, shutting
the door behind him. They never spoke again of
that conversation. The little boy had stuffed what
was given him into a pillow case and stored it in
the closet for later. Even if his Grandfather was
crazy, a camera was something that he could use.
It was very old; maybe he could sell it.
He never did end up selling the camera, just
like he never told anyone about what Grandfather had told him that day. It would take many
years for him to begin to believe that what he had
heard was true. And many years after that for him
to fully appreciate the gift that he had been given.
A do-over. A complete reset button for life. He
kept telling himself that he didn’t believe any of it,
but when he went off to college, he began to car