When I look at these Polaroids, I automatically envision a scene 50 yrs from now.
I’m old, shrivelled, skin spotted with tell-tale signs of wisdom. Probably starting to forget things also. Probably a widow.
One day while moving homes or spring cleaning, my grandkids find a bunch of photos, much like how I did sometime ago in my house. Then they read the caption on the photos and their eyes widen at the realization that this is their grandma in her youth. Then they run to me with the photos to hear stories about my youth, and I spend 5 whole minutes adjusting my glasses and reading the caption, then another few minutes wondering what the context was.
Then slowly my fading brain puts together flashes of this trip with my best friend, probably now shrivelled herself. And then I tell them about how we were independent back then, what the fashion of that decade was, about the refugee crisis which was plaguing the world, how we didn’t know I was going to marry their grandfather, and other such things.
Then the grandkids leave my side, leaving me in the time they took me back to.
If they are anything like me, they’d keep these Polaroids in a special box and look at it once in a while even after I am gone.
Originally posted in Instagram - @sunayanasen