Photo Jumper

Summer 1985. Walking the short path over the freeway. The sun is evoking sweat out of my pores. I can feel it soaking the creases of my rolled-up sleeves. There’s a new hole in my sneakers, which I’m almost grateful for. At least my left foot has space to breathe. This is still one of my favorite moments. I breathe in the sweltering summer air once more before pulling out of the photo.

Back into reality. Back into 2020. Back into my dark, dreary, and cold apartment. I sip my whiskey neat and shuffle through the photos with my free hand. My granddaughter says I’m a hoarder. That I ought to purge. I sigh deeply enough to feel the sting of fresh oxygen in my chest as I look around my small, cluttered space. Photographs and framed memories fill every wall in this space. Photo albums replace actual written words on my bookshelves. I never had any need for books, as I could simply live in history for myself with one step into the photo. But perhaps Johanna was right: it’s time to let go.

How could I have been so foolish enough to think endless photos - even reliving them 20 minutes at a time would ever replace having my sweet Gloria by my side? Even with my gift, I needed her here in reality to survive. Six long months alone had ensured I learned that painful truth.

I continue flipping through the pictures and come across the first dance. Gloria had never looked so beautiful. Slowly and a little hesitantly, I slipped into the photo.

May 1993, New Orleans. Her hand is so warm and soft in mine. Her perfume fills me up with orange and floral.

“I love you, Carlos,” she whispers in my ear. I could almost cry at the sound of her voice. I pull her lips to mine and kiss her fiercely. We dance slowly as the moments tick by. All too soon, I’m alone in my apartment once again, wiping away the water overflowing from my eyes.

“I love you too, Gloria,” I whisper to an empty room.

Hours passed this way as the sun lazily faded from the sky.

Summer breeze brushed my face, and the little laughter melted my heart. I’d never seen a child love the beach so much. Gloria did her best to spread the sunscreen as our little boy wiggled and squirmed out of her arms. I laughed out loud despite myself.

“You could help you know,” Gloria playfully scolded.

“You’re doing great, my love.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The harsh pounding on the front door jolted me out of the photo. The transition made me a little dizzy. I put the photos carefully aside on the table before hoisting my broken body up onto my cane. I stumbled over to the door, becoming more irritated with each painful step. I used to wonder why the old were always too grumbly and quick to anger until arthritis took my hands and knees. Until a pacemaker started assisting my aged heart in its job. I’d say it’s hard for anyone to be truly happy, feeling so useless and in pain.

I pull open the door with some difficulty, only to have all that frustration wiped away in an instant.

“Johanna, is it Thursday?” I ask, suddenly feeling happy as a clam. I mirror the smile resting constantly on my granddaughter’s face.

“No, Abuelo, it’s only Tuesday, but I have something for you, and I wanted to see you.” I knew it had been less than a week since I last saw her, but she looked older now, wiser, somehow.

She bounces excitedly and joyfully into the room. She goes straight to the kitchen, and I can hear her fumbling around to get a drink or a snack. I slowly force my body to follow her.

“Abuelo, it’s freezing in here! I’m going to turn on some lights and turn up the heat!” She calls out from the kitchen. I smile to myself. That seems appropriate: all Johanna ever did was turn on the light within me and fill me with enough love to warm me up again. I was happy to find in my old age that people were right about the delightful joy of having grandchildren. I loved my sons dearly, but nothing could have prepared me for the way Johanna would capture my heart.

I finally made it into the kitchen. She is sitting in the built-in seating area. She had gotten a glass of water and was eating some leftover tamales that my neighbors had dropped off. And in her hands, she holds several photographs, which I found curious. It was Joanna who always thought I had too many. She looks up at me and smiles again as I enter the room.

“Come sit with me, Abuelo!” I shuffle over to her, ignoring the pain in my hips. When I sit down, I notice the first photograph she held is of us at the zoo when she was just five years old. My darling Gloria had taken the photo, and I teared up at the thought. Such a good memory.

“Hold my hand, Abuelo,” Johanna whispers as she holds out her small hand for me. I take it and feel her warmth fill me up. She looks very serious and then looks down at the photo. Within seconds, I had jumped. Once again, reliving the memory at the zoo. We were standing in front of the monkeys - listening to them shout back and forth to each other.

“I knew it!” Little five-year-old Johanna cries. “I knew you could do it too!”

My heart almost stopped as I realized what had happened. I didn’t jump into the photo Johanna had, and she pulled me with her. This was something I never thought was an option!

“You always said photos were special, they contained the magic of the memory, and that you can relive them. I didn’t realize what you meant until I did this for the first time on my birthday. I knew, I just knew we could do it together!” Johanna beams with delight at her discovery. So excited we are both here, back at the zoo.

“I know it’s been hard since MiMi died, but I’m here with you, Abuelo. Together, we’ll keep her alive!”

I reach down and hold my tiny baby girl in my arms as tightly as I can. I let the tears fall as they may. We stay together in an embrace until we find ourselves back in the kitchen. As she pulls away from me, she wipes away tears from her face.

“Are you ready for the next one?” She asks with a mischievous look on her face.

“What is the next one?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

She pulls at a photo from my last birthday. She and Gloria were by my side, each kissing my cheeks. My heart is so full I could hardly contain it. She reaches her hand out for mine, and I take it, happily.