Smiles

When I was looking for the photo I would bring to class I came into a dilemma. Should I bring a silly photo? A happy photo? An angry photo? I was not too sure. I did what any normal person would do: I searched through all the photos I could find of me. It took me years to find the right one. During my epic search, I realized something; many of my photos were of me smiling. I began to wonder why exactly was I smiling during those times. Then I remembered. I was not happy! My mom made me do it. She was the one who forced me to smile even when I was having a terrible time. One photo of me was when during a family vacation to Hawaii. It was a beautiful place, but I had just gotten off the plane and was barfing my brains out. My mom quickly wiped my face and shrieked at me to put on my happy smile and took the photo. Just this weekend, my mother had taken around 5 billion photos of me during my swim meet: each time ordering me to smile. I asked her why exactly does she make me do this. I wanted a simple answer, but my mom gave me a huge explanation. I wasn't listening closely, but she said something like, "Why do you always have to question me?!?! I'm old! I can't remember this! I need pictures for when I'm really old! I want to remember that we were having fun because THIS IS FUN, RIGHT! AND I AM GOING TO FORCE YOU TO HAVE FUN WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT, IS THAT CLEAR?!?! NOW DO THE LAUNDRY! I realized what my mom really wanted. She did not care about what the event was: she wanted a good memory. My mom was not looking for the truth, but a memory of a good time. Much like Tim O'Brien's novel, "The Things They Carried," it isn't the truth that is essential, but the experience and emotions that come from it. O'Brien was able to show the horrors of the Vietnam war and my mother was able to fake a good time.