Under the Pale Moon

This story is about fulfilling a promise.

Many years ago, I made a mistake. My parents did a trip in a group. Not a special one, but a journey that they might remember forever. At that time, it was not typical to have a mobile phone with a camera, nor a camera with a decent specification. So, my father's friend, who took a digital camera with him, was taking so many memories, and some photos shared with other group members. He gave us some digital files. I saved it to 3 different places: my PC, laptop, and a USB drive pen. What a fool I've been to not having any backup files online. Google Drive didn't exist, since it was way before 2012. Not in any form of social media posts. Nothing. None. Nada.

A few months later, my PC and laptop were both broken. I have tried to fix the drive but had no luck. I was also desperately trying to locate my only hope, the USB pen drive, but I've completely lost track of it. All of my data, along with all of the photos of my parents, was vanished. 

My mother once said, "I do miss the moment when I and your father were in front of The Tunnel." I felt sorry. I have been giving it a lot of thought for days, months, and years. How do I find the lost memory of other people's experiences, grab it like a drowning man clutching a lifeline, and return it to the original owner?

A photo by Bill Williams

That guilty feeling made me have another point of view. As one of the perspective laws in Echochrome, "when a hole is blocked from a view, it doesn't exist." Hey, I can not mend the old photograph that faded into the void, lost to time's relentless sweep. But, perhaps I can recreate the memory.

So, years ago, I made a promise to myself. I will go to The Tunnel.

I will capture a shot, at the very same spot, with the precise angle that once framed a remembrance. Back then, it seemed impossible. But, I believed that the only way to build a time machine was to weave the fabric of dreams and memories, stitching together moments lost to the whispers of yesterday. It may take the passage of fleeting suns and moons, to take my focus and time.

Imagine a marathon runner who runs in the silent dawn. His breath is mingling with the crisp of the morning air. With each step, he overcomes exhaustion, propelled by a steady beat of hope and resolve. The finish line represents the top of a mountain, a distant beacon, a culmination of countless hours of training and sacrifice.

Finally, this year, that promise is fulfilled. I am at The Tunnel.

I take the shot under the pale moon, remembering the promise that resurrected in the stillness of the night. The image captured is preserved under the soft glow of the lunar light. Alhamdulillah.