It was backstage at my 3rd grade play commemorating Israeli Independence Day and the nerves were rapidly building up inside me. I could feel the perspiration develop in the palms of my hands. I was dressed in an uncomfortable white-button down blouse paired with a navy blue, awkward length skirt that I was clearly drowning inside of. I wished I could share the same excitement as the other children, but I didn’t. I was simply dreading stage fright from overcoming my entire body as usual and had no interest in letting an audience of 500 people to get a sight of that. When I thought things couldn’t get any worse, there stood my mother with her camera hanging off her wrist and the pouch clutched in the other hand. The last thing I needed was a camera flash obstructing my vision as I attempted to recite my assigned paragraph describing Israel.

The camera never left her hand ever since. My mother had always aspired to be a photographer. Although, getting married at 20 and pregnant with her first child at 21, her dream had gradually drifted away as the years flew past her. The definition of a picture meant more to her than just any visible image; it meant capturing a memory. She carries her philosophy until today, by constantly taking pictures even if it meant of an oddly shaped french-fry at our nearby pizza store.

It took me one day spent looking through family albums to realize how important it is to take pictures throughout your life. I held up each photo, closed my eyes, and put myself into the photo in my mind; I used the picture as my own metaphorical time machine to remember the fun times in my life, whether at Disneyland or my first visit to Dave and Buster’s. Photography is like a time capsule. Once the flash appears from the lens, history is made and memories are preserved. I feel like by mother simply advising me to take pictures, she gave me an incredible gift at the same time. Now I can remember every important moment I spend with my friends and every annual barbeque I spend with my massive family.