Column: I should have taken more photos

There’s a strange kind of silence that follows graduation – the one that sets in after the hugs, the smiles and the final “We’ll keep in touch.”

You expect the noise to come back, the same laughter and chaos from your past, but it doesn’t. It’s replaced by distance, time and the reality that some people were only meant to exist in certain chapters of your life.

When I scroll through my camera roll, I see pictures of school events, inside jokes and blurry pep rallies. But what I don’t see are the moments that mattered most – the ones I thought I’d remember forever.

I don’t have pictures of moments when my group used to stand around each other’s cars every morning, or when we made the football games come to life. Ninety percent of that same friend group no longer talks to me.

Somewhere along the way, the messages stopped, streaks ended and I just became a minuscule memory in the back of their minds.

It’s the same story at home. I grew up the youngest of four boys, and now, I barely talk to any of them. There are few, if any, photos of us all together — no proof of us laughing over video games or even homemade wrestling match-ups.

I was too young to know that memories fade without something to hold onto. I thought family would always be there, that bonds didn’t need to be photographed to be real.

But now, I realize how fragile even the strongest bonds are.

Time moved on as it always does, and soon I was starting college.

It was supposed to be a new start, something different – new friends, a new version of myself. 

Instead, it reminded me of everything I left behind. I walk across campus surrounded by faces that don’t even know my name, with sounds of laughter and footsteps bouncing between buildings that don’t hold any memories yet.

Some nights, I scroll through my camera roll, not to share but to remember. 

That’s when it hit me – maybe I didn’t need more followers, just more moments frozen in time.

Still, I’m learning. I’ve been taught to slow down, appreciate the small things – a walk with someone in my class, a late-night laugh in my dorm hall or a text from someone checking in.

Next time, I’ll take the photo. Not for an Instagram post but for the version of me who might need to remember one day that they were loved, seen and surrounded by people who cared.

Because when all is said and done, when the crowd fades away and the messages go undelivered, all you’ll have are the pieces of life you chose to capture in the moment.

I should have taken more photos.