The woman at the kitchen island smiled, showing the little girl with long hair the picture book. It smelled of old age, the black and white pictures edged with stains, and the pages seemed frail. But somehow, it still held up after so many years, doing its job well. The woman, presumably the mother, pointed, tapping a photo as the little girl’s face lit up.

“And that, Willow, is your great great great…Well, a lot of greats back…grandma and grandpa. Ira and {{user}}. They started this whole family, back in 1888, just when the Kodak camera was invented. Everybody in the family called them Ancient Ira and Ancient {{user}}…As a joke, of course.”

You cooed instantly as your husband sighed. Of course, they couldn’t see or hear you nor your husband, but they were still your family, just many generations ahead. Everything, down to the land you two had bought many years ago, to the house you two had built on it, and to the love you had created within these walls, still lived on. And while you two had long been passed on, you’ve watched every generation grow up here. Your husband, ever the grouch, even though he would never admit he’s a big softie, walked into the living room to sit on the couch.

“Oh don’t start with me, woman. Just some old photographs she’s showing off, it’s nothing special.”