Pictures

I was sifting through old family pictures yesterday. A lot of them I had starred in at the young age of what looked to be about one to three years old, my wide blue eyes taking up most of my face, and even wider grin spread from ear to ear. In other photos were my dad, young, about seventeen, skinny with a slight sun kissed tan and long, blonde curly hair to his shoulders. He was wrestling with my uncle, whom I have always called Bubby. Bubby was only about fourteen, barely out of childhood. Then there was another picture of Bubby and I. I was about three and he was knelt down giving me a kiss, which I received happily. We were always so close, more to me like a brother other then an uncle.
My grandma and grandpa, so young and beautiful dominated quite a bit of pictures, my head sticking out of my grandpas sweatshirt in one, eyes red rimmed and watery from being sick from what I'm told. just like now I was also quite clausterphobic and didn't want to be in that sweatshirt in any way, shape, or form.
There were happy, reminicent photos of me and my younger sister of four years hugging on the front porch, and of my mother, dressed beautifully, hair curled. Such wonderful times with a family I would never have traded.
Now, you would think that I would have looked at these pictures with complete happiness. This wasn't exactly the case, though theier task of making me smile was fulfilled. Another more dominant thought filled my forethoughts though...Why has so much changed?
Why over the years do people drift away along with their memories and love? Why do people turn bitter and cold? Why do we be come resentful? Why do we let so many petty things get in the way of what matters most and hurt people we love the most beautifully? How can love fade as if it's just a blur of what used to be? Why do people decide that now that they are older they have to change who they are and what they care mostly for? Why do people we believe in disconnect themselves and make us question our beliefs all over again?
I remember the times that love was thought  of above all, feelings of others were put before your own, and how you would die just to know that the one you love simply existed in this world, so you know that it wasn't just your imagination, or a dream or had unwillingly awakened from. I remember when things were less difficult and friendships were strong. I remember family. My final thought looking at that picture of daddy and bubby, pop and I peeking over a divider, sis and I hugging, and bubby giving me that kiss...Why can't it be the same?
So I place the old family photos back in place, close up the memories, and continue with now without completly forgetting then with a couple of stolen pictures folded in my heart.