Family photo

On the wooden shelf in the living room, two photos were placed side by side: one old, one brand new. One was faded, the edges worn by time, a photo of my family when we were still very young; the other was printed not long ago, capturing a rare moment of reunion after many years apart. Between the two photos were decades of distance, but the smiles in each frame seemed to still retain the warm love of a complete home.

I still remember clearly that morning, the day the old photo was taken. The sky was blue, the sun was shining golden all over the yard. My parents were sitting in the middle, and my brother and I had messy hair, our clothes still covered in dirt after playing under the mango tree. The old lens of the village photographer captured the moment when my mother gently bent down to smooth my hair, while my father looked at her and smiled gently. Behind was a mottled earthen wall and an old corrugated iron roof, but the light pouring through the small window made the photo glow, strangely warm.

Looking back now, I understand: happiness sometimes doesn't need anything big, just having each other, just laughter filling that simple house, that's enough.

The photo was taken a few months ago. My parents’ hair was now white, their faces were deeply wrinkled, but their smiles were as gentle as ever. The camera clicked again, capturing all of our smiles, bright and complete, as if no time had passed.

Between those two photos is a long journey from childhood to adulthood, from hardship to peace. I realized there is an invisible thread connecting everything, which is family love. Childhood happiness is lying in my mother's arms listening to the sound of rain falling on the porch, being taken to the Tet market by my father on an old bicycle, a simple meal filled with laughter. When I grew up, happiness became the seemingly simple things of going back to my hometown to visit my parents, having a home-cooked meal together, listening to my father's soft cough, my mother's voice telling me: "Eat, child, you're too skinny."

I have traveled to many lands, taken countless photos with friends and colleagues, but none of them touched my heart like those two family photos. In the small frame, there are not only faces but also memories, time, and everlasting love. There are things that the camera can record, but only the heart can truly preserve.

I suddenly thought, someday when the new photo gets old, one day our children will take another photo of the whole family, with the same bright smiles. And then, perhaps they will understand: happiness does not lie in whether the photo is beautiful or not, but in having all the faces we love in the frame.

2 photos, 2 moments but the same happiness. Amidst the many changes in life, I understand a simple yet profound thing: having a home to return to, someone to love, smiling together in a photo, that is the most complete happiness a person can have in life.

Nguyen Thanh

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/dong-nai-cuoi-tuan/202511/tam-anh-gia-dinh-eb22c80/