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Not everyone likes to look into their own memories from childhood or from school and student times, but curiosity in their own development and growth over the years of their life sometimes prevails. Today's youth almost no longer keep their photos in paper albums, as their parents once did, they have been replaced by digital folders and flash drives. It used to be stored on CDs, but even that is no longer relevant. And yet, paper photo albums have their own charm, their own magic, their own aesthetics. At least for Tristan. Of course, he keeps a separate flash drive for photos at home, but when visiting his parents, to occupy himself somehow in the evening, looking at old photo albums seems something familiar, natural. So it happened today.
Tristan's mom: Sunshine, are you looking at it again?
Tristan was sitting in the living room at the small coffee table, flipping through what looked like a photo album. From the outside, it looked almost as good as new, but some of the pages still had the effect of aging.
Tristan: Yes, I wanted to see how I used to look again. And I just sometimes miss the good memories.
He looked at the page where there were pictures from his birthday and childhood. Photos like these were often the subject of discussion when introducing parents to friends or future partners, but not in the case of one photo where Tristan's hand was laying. The one that his parents later nicknamed "Flying Baby".
Tristan's mom: Back when you were still that brawler?
Tristan: Well, it's not my fault that after I was born, I immediately started flying. And I haven't even learned that yet.
They laughed loudly, after which the mother looked at her son.
Tristan's mom: We were really scared when this happened to you. I almost passed out because you could have gone to the moon or something. Usually, in our family, this is learned at a more mature age. Well, like the rest of the abilities.
Tristan: Maybe the Universe decided to make my training as a psychic easier for a few years.
Tristan's mom: But we tried to hide it from everyone. At least our generation. People are too cruel to treat psychics with courtesy. Who knows what terrible things they can do. And yet someone decided to be too bold.
With a sad smile, the mother strokes Tristan's purple curls.
Tristan: I understand mom, but they would have found out sooner or later anyway. In addition, our ancestors somehow found a common language with society in this regard, I think we will also be able to find it. Do you remember grandfather once said that you should limit yourself in a balanced way, otherwise -
Tristan's mom: Otherwise, it is impossible to blossom fully. Yes, sunshine, I remember. He said a lot of useful things, even though he was still a gossipy person.
Tristan: It seems that he and I have a little in common.
Tristan's mom: Like brawling and choosing clothes.
Loud laughter resounded in the room again, then Tristan continued flipping through the album. In a minute, his mother joined him, and new pictures caught their eyes. Junior school years, when the world still seemed naive and interesting, where the desire to explore and learn about it had not yet gone out like a candle. And where Tristan first demonstrated his strength.
Tristan's mom: Are you still talking to that boy?
Tristan: The one in the photo? I think he is still in shock after what he saw.
Tristan's mom: He got a good scare from your ability to move things with the power of thought.
Tristan: That's right. Everyone else was just interested and kept asking me to do this and that, or jealous and trying to make friends to "look cool".
Tristan's mom: This was one of the reasons why I persuaded you to stay at home for individual lessons.
Tristan: I understand, but I would be bored at home. I am still grateful to you for allowing me to be present at the school.
Tristan's mom: Only on the condition that you always discuss all problems at school with us.
Tristan: Of course. I was never able to apologize to this guy. He disappeared from school so quickly.
Tristan's mom: Don't worry, son. Maybe someday he will forgive.
The boy smiled and they continued flipping through the album. The pages were filled with various events from school, where Tristan experimented with fashion that was mocked and ridiculed by the boys as if it was not "natural" for men, where he participated in various school events such as volleyball competitions, master classes from craft, and just Olympiads. Only somewhere in the last school years, the young man got tired of doing this, and because of this there were only a few photos from his senior year and a graduation photo. One.
Tristan's mom: Don't you regret not going to the graduation party with your classmates?
Tristan: No. And it is unlikely that they would be happy to see me, even with "unusual beauty", as they like to say.
Tristan's mom: What about those friends you were hanging out with?
Tristan: If school friends at least wrote to me sometimes, then maybe we would have our own party. But I was fine anyway.
He smiled confidently and continued looking through the photos. Next were student photos. There were not many of them, but they were special in their own way. At least colorful.
Tristan: God, I still can't figure out how I could walk around with that hairstyle. Just a nightmare.
Tristan's mom: Well, you looked very nice. But when you started coloring, you generally looked like a rainbow.
Tristan: But what a rainbow.
He smiled, but his mom was not happy about this fact. And yet she had to accept it, because it was her son's personal choice. And receiving constant lectures from her grandfather about how it is sometimes necessary to give free will to students so that they learn life independently is also not very pleasant.
Tristan's mom: I still can't believe that I had to make up a whole lie about ghosts and curses at school and university, only to have grandpa come and tell them everything calmly. About us, about our abilities, and about the fact that if someone offends you, he will personally come and "talk".
Tristan: Knowing what a strong psychic he is, I wouldn't test his patience if I were the teachers and principals.
Tristan's mom: You have no idea how serious he was about this back then. There is an interesting picture somewhere here.
She flipped the pages a little back to the beginning and points to a picture of a cradle and a grandfather standing next to her. The young psychic was surprised at her.
Tristan: I've never seen that photo.
Tristan's mom: That's because I recently added it here. When me and your father were very tired from work, we asked my dad, your grandfather, to watch you. I don't know how seriously he took it, but he stood there all day looking at you sweetly sleeping. Then I ask him "Dad, can you go and rest a little?", and he is like "No, no, I have to stand and protect."
Tristan: It looks a little creepy.
Tristan's mom: It was, but he didn't do anything bad to me or you. I swear. He did everything in order not to disturb your sleep.
Tristan: And that I always look stylish and eat well.
Tristan's mom: Well, this is typical for old people. I still remember this phrase of his: "Be strong." The last one. Just before he…
There was silence. A sadness hung over the room, and a picture appeared in their minds of that day, the last day Tristan could still see his grandfather. It was the day of the university exam, but Tristan couldn’t show up. A worried call from his mother drew him to the house. To their home, to talk to grandpa one last time, to get some very valuable advice for life one last time.
"Always land an ear to yourself."
These few minutes could not pass without his mother's tears, which suddenly appeared on her face. The young man noticed this, but could not think of anything better than to hug her carefully and tenderly.
Tristan: Well, at least he has a chance to babble with the Universe to his heart's content.
Tristan's mom: Yes, you're right. Sorry, something just caught my eye.
Tristan: It's okay, it happens. If you want, we can look at the album later.
Tristan's mom: I would love to, but it's probably better if I do it alone. Not to bother you with my emotions.
Tristan: Mom, stop saying bad things about yourself. How many times have I told you, don't pick up this habit from your neighbor.
Tristan's mom: Okay, I won't. But I'll go see what I can make for dinner anyway. Are you going back to your apartment tomorrow?
Tristan: Yes. I will have to leave early for work, so you don’t have to prepare breakfast for me.
Tristan's mom: But where will I let you go without breakfast. At least let me put it into the breakfast box.
Tristan: Moooooom.
He replied at length to his mother's offer, but she responded with a smile and then returned to the kitchen. As always on her own, the young man thought, and continued to look at the photos. The last ones on this page. University graduation. Everyone was wearing these fancy dark robes with academic caps and little tails hanging down. However, Tristan, as always, wanted to stand out, so instead of a black cap, he chose a purple one, to match the color of the tips of his hair. Some did not pay attention to it, some with disdain, wondering how the university could afford such a thing, some were envious, but the young psychic did not pay attention to the views of others, he was just happy to graduate from university and go to work.
Tristan: I wonder how others are doing. Perhaps they were able to fulfill their dreams, or found something more interesting. I should ask Ayame if she was able to forgive Shinji for that incident. I also still need to ask about the meeting with Mikado and Mikade. Maybe I will finally be able to tell them apart, because with such twins it is still necessary to practice.
Just remembering them brings a smile to his face. But it quickly disappears when he remembered those who wanted to "fix" him. At first, it would seem like a simple misunderstanding, but when they cling to you for every detail that is not the "norm" in their concept, in their worldview, when the fountain of insults rumbled from the lips of these people, and then they say that they know the remedy on how "to make a real man out of you”…Tristan nervously closed the album, trying not to let his thoughts force the lunch to crawl back. Calming down a bit, he shook his head and stood up, walking over to the cabinet from which he took the photo album.
Tristan: I think that's enough viewing for today. Need to tidy myself up for tomorrow, and then have a movie night after work.
Putting the album in its place, Tristan went to the kitchen to help his mother. The evening passed quietly for them, almost as usual, discussing about today, about plans, about Tristan not forgetting to send new photos to replenish the album sometimes, and whether the young man had found a girlfriend yet. Or a boy, as he likes to say. Or no one, which was also an option for Tristan. Of course, such conversations are not always pleasant, but the thought that you will soon return to your cabin, to your life, makes such moments a little easier.