We all have that picture.

The one in the elementary or junior high yearbook. The picture where we cringe every time we see it.

Either we had a goofy look on our faces, we were having a bad hair day or our eyes were closed.

For me, the hide-my-head year was seventh grade.

I’d given myself uneven bangs on a forehead not created for bangs.

The bangs were supposed to hide my bushy eyebrow – yes, I had only one that went across my face – but the bangs made the look worse.

I also needed braces, so I held my mouth in a funny smile that looked like I was sitting on a cactus, trying to remain serious.

I came across that picture when going through photos I picked up from my Mom.

She was recuperating from a minor heart procedure, and my sister and I were sitting on her bed talking to her.

Mom opened a drawer and we noticed it was filled with small photo albums and loose pictures.

The hundreds of photos in that drawer were the result of everyone sending her pictures over the past 30 years and from her days of taking pictures with a small Kodak camera.

I took the photos home to scan and post the images on our Facebook family page for everyone to see.

As I went through the stacks, I found some gems.

Mom had pictures of her mother throughout the years. I saw my grandmother’s hands and remembered how silky soft they were.

Those hands were seldom still as she was either making chicken and rice, crocheting or finishing up an embroidery pattern on pillowcases.

There were also pictures of our Grandma Marguerite, always wearing high heels, jewelry and her hair perfectly styled.

There were pictures of Mom’s siblings, some of whom have passed away.

Pictures of our Aunt Bev made me tear up but then smile as seeing her again reminded me of the many conversations we had and how she taught me how to knit and find bargains.

Seeing our relatives’ smiling faces in my grandparents’ living room with the gold couches and gold-flocked wallpaper was like stepping back in time.

Once again, I could hear the laughter in that room, and then I noticed the bright red carpet that ran through all the downstairs rooms.

I’d forgotten the carpet back story until I saw the pictures. My grandmother asked my grandfather to go pick out some carpet for the house as she was busy.

Red was his favorite color, so that’s the color he picked out. I don’t think she ever forgave him.

I was reminded how gorgeous our Aunt Kathy was and how she lit up a room with her smile and kindness. Photos of my Cajun uncles brought up memories of crabbing and fishing.

The photos showed how we’d all changed, from young kids to grandparents. Our children’s growing up was documented as well, from darling toddlers to apathetic teens to parents themselves.

Family trips were recorded, like the time some of the siblings visited Las Vegas.

There was a late-night blackjack game where the dealer took pity on us and allowed us to win a few hands.

The memories might be hazy, but those tangible pictures allow us to remember and relive those wonderful moments on a sandy beach at some property my parents owned, at a backyard barbecue accompanied by a never-ending basketball game, at chaotic Christmas celebrations, birthdays and impromptu get-togethers.

The photos are now scanned and posted on our family Facebook page where relatives are loving taking a trip back through the past.

Even the cringe-worthy elementary school pictures.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.