Sometimes I sit quietly on a shelf and think about the life I’ve carried inside me. I’m not just paper and pictures. I’m a keeper of memories. Every page I hold is full of Ritachimdi’s childhood her laughter, her worries, her friends, and her family.
Ritachimdi has matured. She doesn’t open me as much as she used to, but I remember when she did. She would sit on the floor, putting me on her lap, and slowly turning my pages. Some of the photos made her smile. Some others made her quiet. Her little hands carefully turned each page, and her eyes were often full of amazement.
I often felt the urge to talk to her. I wanted to tell her that the girl in the pictures was already great. That she didn't have to doubting herself and comparing herself with others. But I was just a photo album. I could only observe. If I had the power to speak to her then, I would have told her this.
I would have advised her to have self-confidence. I had witnessed her on numerous occasions, gazing at her pictures, and she was very much confused about her identity. She thought that other kids were louder, smarter, or better than her. She believed that her aspirations were too high for a girl like her. If I could have talked then, I would have said, "You are the one, Ritachimdi. You are intelligent. You are capable. You do not require anyone's consent to radiate." That little girl in the dress, smiling with her friends she was already equipped with all the necessary qualities inside her. She just needed to acknowledge it.
I would also tell her to listen to her heart, not the voices around her. I remember the adults who told Ritachimdi what careers mattered, what subjects were important, what dreams were safe. They made it sound like only certain paths were worth chasing. But I knew different. I could see the spark in her. I could sense the longing when she flipped through pictures of herself holding books or standing proudly with classmates. If I had a voice, I would have said, “Your heart is not foolish. It knows where you should go. Follow it. Passion will carry you farther than fear ever will.”
Another thing I would tell her is about money. I remember the coins she sometimes dropped on my cover when she rushed out. I remember her running to buy sweets, biscuits, or toys. Those little things made her happy, but she didn’t know the power of saving. If I could have spoken, I would have told her, “Save some of it, Ritachimdi. Even the smallest coin can grow. Money is not just for spending—it’s for building freedom. Learn it early, and you’ll thank yourself later.”
And also, I would inform her that she should not be afraid of failure. I can still vividly recall the tears that she shed while she was looking at her school photos after she had a tough day. She absolutely detested the idea of disappointing anyone. She believed that failing a test or making a mistake was the end of the world. I wish I could have communicated with her, I would have said, "Failure is not the end. It's just a step to the next one. Every fault imparts you a lesson. Falling does not make you be of less power. What does, however, is the condition of not having gained back your feet. Pull yourself together, try again, and continue on your way.”
I would remind her to treasure people. My pages are full of faces—family, cousins, friends, neighbors. When Ritachimdi was young, she thought life was mostly about passing exams and making her parents proud. She didn’t always notice how important people were. If I could have spoken, I would have reminded her, “Success isn’t only about grades. It’s about people. Friends make life better. Mentors open doors you can’t open alone. Be kind. Be faithful. Build relationships that last.”
I would definitely advise her to take time and be with the family. Looking through my albums, I come across faces that can no longer be seen. Grandparents who narrated. Relatives who brought joy to the meetings. Brothers and sisters who played outside. Time didn’t wait and a few of those instances have become only memories. If I were her, I’d be listening to me, I would have said, “Don’t go yet. Pay attention to what they say. Hug them more. Kids grow up quickly and family time is finite.”
And lastly, I would tell her to pray more and worry less. I remember the way she sometimes sat quietly, staring at my photos, worrying about the future. Would she succeed? Would her dreams come true? Would life be kind? She carried so much fear for a girl so young. If I could have spoken, I would have said, “Pray about it, Ritachimdi. Trust God more than you trust your fear. Worry does nothing, but faith gives peace. Let prayer be your strength.”
If I, the old family photo album, had been able to speak when Ritachimdi was a child, I would not have erased her mistakes. I would not have changed her whole story. Those hard days shaped her into the woman she is now. But I would have given her courage sooner. I would have told her to believe in herself, listen to her heart, save money, face failure with strength, love people deeply, spend more time with family, and pray without fear.
Life never lets us go back. But the lessons we carry can guide us forward. And just as I keep Ritachimdi’s past safe inside my pages, she can use these truths to guide her future. Maybe one day, when she opens me again, she’ll smile. Not only because of the photos, but because of the wisdom she’s gained along the way.
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Hello, @ritachimdi
Without a doubt, that not-so-old album contains a lot of wisdom. It's your own voice speaking to you in your reflection. You're still young, the same age as my youngest daughter. And like her, you have many goals to accomplish. So give life to your projects, because as I've read between the lines, they implore God's will.
Thank you for participating with your silver soul.
Greetings.
Thank you so much for reading my entry.