Photographs

Sometimes life is a challenge, and sometimes it’s truly amazing, and sometimes you slide into reflection accidentally. 

I was on Facebook, doing what you do with Facebook when I came upon an article- 

10 times your parents were cooler than you are.

I looked at the pictures from the sixties, seventies and eighties. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, swamping me with the bittersweet feeling that no, we really aren’t as cool as our parents.

I’m not even as cool as I was, once upon a time.

Were people tougher? Or did they just take fewer pictures, and live more?

I thought of my travels to other countries and how obsessed some people were with taking pictures that we look at, 

once or twice a year, maybe.

I obsessed differently, needing to capture my thoughts and emotions. I journaled my way through Europe, and Egypt, and Australia, and the US. 

I’ve written everything down on every long trip I’ve been to. And I don’t think I’ve looked at them once.

What makes a memory vivid?

What gives us those moments we can’t deny?

The flashes of clarity that stay with us forever?

I remember bits and pieces. 

Walking along the seine, 

alone in a grey day,

Running through the streets of Luxor in lulu’s while locals stared at me with confusion.

The sight of kangaroos bouncing through a field while my face burned from the propane in the hot air balloon,

Being upside down in a tiger moth, positive I would die.

Laughing while trying to be supportive of my friend, stung by a stingray, 

encouraging tequila in the morning.

Calling my brother sneezeburger, our code word when we were ready to kill each other.

The heat of New Orleans in August and how tight my curls got.

How hungry I was on the cruise ship on my honeymoon, unaware it wasn’t the sea air.

Snapshots of my travels, 

none with any photo evidence.

Times when I was alive and living, without thinking of capturing the moment.

I found myself misty looking at other people’s youth. 

Hoping I get to do it all again, someday

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