Y'all Wanna See a Picture?

Our oldest went clothes shopping with her grandmother and aunt.

My wife, my youngest, and I decided to have an adventure—we wanted to see how three wheels worked compared to four.

It’s been a while since we tried that.

We hopped over to the city beside us. I spent many years there growing up.

Trails wind through it. Nature lurks at every step. Mushrooms sprouted too slowly for my daughter’s hands—she snatched them up before my wife could snap a picture.

With small hands, she tore them apart and scattered them along the path like a flower girl at a wedding.

Monuments rise here. Large statues honor a war called Revolutionary.

The biggest belongs to a feller named Nathanael Greene. He served in the Continental Army and commanded troops through the South. The British General Cornwallis felt on edge whenever Greene came too close to his neighborhood.

The statue towers over you—Greene mounted on a horse, both rider and steed twice the size of life.

My daughter sprinted toward it. So did I—not to bask in its grandeur, but to claim the cool shade it cast.

As we stood there, a voice called out.

“Y’all wanna see a picture?”

A man named Paul spoke. A seasoned saint, he wore a cap and loose clothes that made him look at ease.

He felt easy to talk to as well.

He showed us two photos. The people inside stared back from a black-and-white world.

The background matched where we stood now, only in the 1940s.

Fewer trees. Fewer additions. A child on the steps, now much older than my daughter.

That child stood in front of me—a man with decades of living behind him.

We talked for several minutes.

We found the kind of connections people discover in small communities. He once lived in my hometown. He told me his nephew still does.

I handed back his photos—his treasure, proof of a life lived well.

I thanked him for sharing his story and shook his hand. We walked in opposite directions.

Maybe we’ll meet again farther down the path.

Maybe one day I’ll stop and show a photo to someone, too.

I’ll let them know I’ve been around a while.

Everyone’s story deserves telling.

Everyone’s story deserves hearing.