Being a parent immerses you into some deep places sometimes. Not necessarily dark, but deep.
I saw some pictures of myself when I was 11 and 12 this week and it makes me realize I vividly remember some VERY old memories. I remember looking that way.
In one of the photos, I proudly hold up my Furby (ca. 1999) and my mom crochets in the background. She and I were both 14 years younger... such a long time. In the photo she is only 10 years older than I am right now.
I don't know if it's because we look so similar or because now I am a mother myself, but I see more of myself in my mother in that photo of her than in that photo of me. It's not that I don't remember being 11, because I DO; I remember the braces, the perm, the everything.
I just see the reflection of myself within my mother so much more than I see myself in the "me" that I have grown from. I'm really glad this photo is still around.
I once thought keeping things makes them inherently special, but it's not the keeping that makes a thing worth something more than it was the day it was more familiar. It's the fact that one day when we reflect upon a memento, we will be more wise and more able to fully appreciate the memories we made with the kept object. It's like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite song throughout your life. The painting or song changes with you because the more life you experience the more your perspective changes. It can make you appreciate things you never stopped to appreciate before. It's wonderful.
It reminds me of pressing and drying flowers. Our lives are so short yet so beautiful that sometimes we have to look back and graze the petals to remember how beautiful things are and have continued to be, even when we have moved on.
In one of the photos, I proudly hold up my Furby (ca. 1999) and my mom crochets in the background. She and I were both 14 years younger... such a long time. In the photo she is only 10 years older than I am right now.
I don't know if it's because we look so similar or because now I am a mother myself, but I see more of myself in my mother in that photo of her than in that photo of me. It's not that I don't remember being 11, because I DO; I remember the braces, the perm, the everything.
I just see the reflection of myself within my mother so much more than I see myself in the "me" that I have grown from. I'm really glad this photo is still around.
I once thought keeping things makes them inherently special, but it's not the keeping that makes a thing worth something more than it was the day it was more familiar. It's the fact that one day when we reflect upon a memento, we will be more wise and more able to fully appreciate the memories we made with the kept object. It's like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite song throughout your life. The painting or song changes with you because the more life you experience the more your perspective changes. It can make you appreciate things you never stopped to appreciate before. It's wonderful.
It reminds me of pressing and drying flowers. Our lives are so short yet so beautiful that sometimes we have to look back and graze the petals to remember how beautiful things are and have continued to be, even when we have moved on.
Stumble it!
