Pictures Of You

Lost Memories

It was a brisk day in October that changed my life forever.  One ride home in a car and one drunk driver changed my whole world.  Ironically enough, I was on the way back from the local drugstore where I had just gotten some Polaroid pictures developed.  My favorite hobby was photography.  I loved taking pictures of nature, objects, and people, especially my friends and family.

I had just finished taking pictures of all my friends and family before the car crash occurred.  My memory of the time leading up to the car crash is not very good, but many people have told me what happened, so I try to remember what they said happen.  The only thing I remember is sitting in the back of my dad's red pickup truck holding a shoe box full of the pictures I had just taken and then got made into Polaroids.  After that, my memory is all fuzzy.

My friend Erin has the best recollection of the car crash because she was there.  It was nearly fatal for everyone in the vehicle, but other than me, everyone else made a full recovery.  Sometimes I ask her to tell me the story of what happened just so I can have some explanation of why I only have one memory of all my friends and family.  I do not think she likes reliving it as much as I ask about it, but she patiently tells me the story every time I ask.

❝You were in the drugstore getting your pictures developed when I saw you. Micah had dropped me off there and I told him I would walk home. I regret telling him that of course, but it worked out because there you were in the drugstore. You asked me if I needed a ride home and I shyly said yes. So we hopped into your dad's red pickup truck and he drove us back. Of course, we didn't make it back home right away. We were on the way back from the drugstore when it happened. Your dad was asking us about how our days had been; he was asking me about Micah and asking you about your photo shoot. But one look away from the road was one second that could've changed everything. Changed for the better or for the worse, is something that we'll never know. A drunk driver speeding down the highway crossed the median and entered the lane your dad was in. I think assuming your dad hadn't looked away for that one second, he could've swerved in time to avoid the drunk driver or lessen the impact. But, of course, the drunk driver came speeding across the median at that very moment that your dad's attention was on us. I saw it coming and so did he, but you never saw it coming. I remember bracing for impact and going unconscious momentarily. Then the car was rolling into the ditch and we were getting jostled about the car. When I came to, you were unconscious and your pictures had gone all over the place. The drunk driver's car came through the passenger's side of the car and hit you dead on. Your blood was all over the place. When the paramedics arrived I was shaken up and bit bruised, as was your dad, but you were knocked out. They thought you might have had a traumatic brain injury along with breaking both legs. It wasn't good. They thought you might never wake up from the coma you were in. We all rode with you to the hospital. I think your dad felt really bad. I did too though. When we got to the hospital they whisked you away. Hours later, when your dad and I were treated, we came to visit you. How peaceful you looked besides having stitches and bruises. We thought you'd wake up with a headache and a sore body, but you woke up with so much more.❞

That is where Erin usually spaces off and stops talking.  Because when I did wake up, I could not even remember my name.  It took a  few days just to get me to call myself Ashley.  I think I was calling myself Andy and the doctors and my family and friends had to remind me that my name was Ashley, despite my pleading and wanting so desperately to be called Andy.  They thought it would just be a personal sort of amnesia, but then as more of my friends came to visit, I became overwhelmed by the amount of "strangers."  I did not know who any of my friends were and I had quite a few breakdowns because no one understood that I did not know anyone; I barely knew myself!

After about five days of no visitors and careful experimentation and observation, the doctors figured out that I had lost all the memories of my loved ones.  They figured some of the memories could be brought back, but it would be hard for my brain to connect memories with people because of the trauma my brain went through.  My mom brought me photos she had taken of my family and friends, but nothing triggered my memory.

My family and a few of my close friends sat there for a week watching me forget everything I held near and dear to my heart.  They doctors had to limit who and how many people saw me because I would get overwhelmed otherwise.  It seemed like all hope was lost.  Until Erin had a brilliant idea.  It was my last hope.

The last significant thing I did before the crash was have the photos I had taken developed at the drugstore.  Although the pictures I had that time were ruined, the drugstore always kept a copy of the negatives for thirty days in case you lose the pictures and negatives.  Erin hoped that because I had been the one looking through the lens of the camera when those pictures were taken, that it would jog my memory and I would remember something.

My parents and Erin rushed off to the drugstore and had them make more pictures.  Once they got the pictures, they put the pictures in the album book that I was planning to put them in when I got home.  It was a nerve-wrecking moment for my loved ones as they set the album on my lap and left me to open it.

My face was expressionless as I turned to the first page.  I stared at the first few pictures blankly.  There was a sigh of disappointment as they thought it was not going to work.  But then, as I started to turn the page, I looked back at the first picture and there was a click in my mind.  My eyes widened and almost seemed to glass over they said.  I stared straight ahead and what they could not see was that I was getting my first snapshot.  The picture had been of Erin.  I had taken the picture a couple weeks ago for her senior pictures.  Suddenly, a snapshot of Erin came into my mind.

Click.

That's when the snapshots started coming.  And they did not stop.  But how long would they stay in my mind and what implications and strain would the limited memory put on my relationships with these people I only had a snapshot of?  Would the pictures bring back my memory or only offer a glimpse of the past and those in it?  I was about to find out.