I think we all have our favorite photographs. Memories recorded, moments in time, preserved. They aren’t always our memories though; they are the memory of the one that took the picture. The why of the picture is seldom known and left to speculation.

I have a picture that was handed down to me from my parents. It was just among their collection of memories. I have no idea who took that picture or why it was taken. All I know about it is that it is my great-great grandmother and my great grandmother. Agnes and Lucy.

I have no direct memory of either of those ladies. Agnes passed away in 1931 and Lucy in 1956. I was three when Lucy passed and only remember the stories told of her. I’m told she did hold me as a baby. I have the bible she was given by her grandfather as a Christmas gift in 1890.

The picture captures me. I can’t help but look and wonder what they were talking about, what were they doing? It had to be before 1931, my father would have been seven years old and being raised by Lucy. You see, Clara, my dad’s mother daughter to Lucy, passed in 1924. Were they talking about that?

Maybe they were talking about James, husband to Agnes. He passed away in 1917, a veteran of the civil war. Agnes had come to visit she didn’t live in the same town, so it was a vacation of sorts. The great depression was in full swing, were they talking about that?

Lucy’s brother, Fred, was a professional photographer. Did he take the picture? I don’t know but it is a possibility. He may have been there visiting as well, he also lived in another state.

The house was built by James, Lucy had been married there, in the parlor in 1898. Lucy married Floyd, my great grandfather. Floyd was a bit of an entrepreneur. That’s what we would all him today, he was into a lot of things. To make the story short, he went bankrupt, lost his home and James gave his home to Lucy, to have forever. Was mother and daughter talking about all of that?

I remember the house well as I would often visit my great grandfather who lived in that house until 1968. I know the yard, the surroundings and the place that picture was taken. I remember the dark dusty rooms in that house, unused since Lucy’ passing. I remember the bed in which I was told Lucy died. It sat untouched for twelve years in that exact spot. The bible that I have sat on the nightstand right next to it.

That photograph is a favorite of mine because I just enjoy looking at it. For me, it’s like a Norman Rockwell painting, it just inspires nostalgia. I get a warm feeling from that picture, I feel “grandmothers” love. The lives of two women, captured in a single photograph. That’s how I see it.

Agnes on the left, Lucy on the right. Mother and daughter.