Photographs are remarkable things. They make us laugh, cry, smile, and sometimes fall quiet.

Their power lies in what they show, and in all they leave us to imagine.

Look at the woman in this old portrait. We are almost a hundred years apart; we will never meet.

Yet her eyes invite questions.  Did she love?  What made her laugh? 

What did an ordinary day feel like?

We have only this small, faded scrap of paper, and yet it seems to hold a fleeting life.

That is what a photograph can do. It keeps a moment, then carries it forward, speaking to people

its subject could never have concieved.

Wedding photographs matter for the same reason. Long after the flowers have gone and the music has faded, your children and grandchildren will have something real to look at: your faces, your closeness, the life you shared together. They may find themselves asking questions about you,

just as we do about her.

That is a quiet, extraordinary inheritance.