Empty, cold, and silent was the only description that match the once lively house, as I entered into the living room. As I turned the corner where I had just left my family to eat dinner, I only see pictures lying across the light green breakfast bar. Slowly approaching the bar I see the faces of each individual within our home. The first picture I observe is covered in a film of blue; I can barely notice my mothers smile behind the blue stain. Dressed in a white shirt that cut off at her shoulders, hair that was styled as high as possible, my mother looked as happy as she possibly could pretend to be. At the bottom of the picture a piece of tape read Melissa Leah Carpenter Shue, but the ununsual part about the label was the Chinese inscription 該名女子躲在她的秘密. Gazing at the inscription beside my mothers name, I become dumbfounded and decide to study the rest of the photographs before trying to crack the Chinese code. As I reach my hand out to pick up the next photo in sequence, the bar starts to shake pushing me backwards. Standing in amazement I see a light shining from within my mothers photo, as I try to approach the light its brightness consumes my eyes and I’m lost, no longer being able to see. I fall to the floor holding my eyes as the burning sensation begins to cause pain throughout my entire body, and suddenly the light that was overcoming my sight turns black as night. Afraid of what’s lingering around for my eyes to see, I slowly lower my hands. I’m no longer at my house, but outside a small trailer in the dark and cold night. I can hear voices coming from within the mobile home, but the voices are completely familiar to my ears. I walk up to the nearest window and try to sneak a peek at the conversation inside. My father and mother are standing in the kitchen, young and full of energy as they continue a heated discussion. I stand in front of the glass window paralyzed, could it be possible that I’ve traveled into my mothers past? I think back to the pictures lying on the breakfast bar, and I realize that the pictures are my keys in learning the details I never knew about my family. As I continue to stare in shock at the memory unfolding in front of me, I notice a calendar in the background. The date is June 9, 1992, which is the day before my birthday. I shake myself back into the discussion taking place between my mother and father. My father is no longer talking with my mother though, but instead looking directly at me. I hear him state “who is that?” in a loud and fearless manner, unable to move I wonder if my father can actually see me lingering within their conversation from outside.