I take a billion pictures of my kids. Time goes so fast, capture it while you can, right? We document all their firsts, all their smiles – gummy, toothy, then gummy again as the teeth start falling out like chicklets. We have literally thousands of pictures and video and I am so thankful we do.
There aren’t nearly as many photos of me as a child. Partly because I was a third, but mostly because we didn’t have the technology we have now, where everything is digital. Remember having to calculate how many more pictures you could take based on how much film was left on the roll in your camera? Now we just snap away, download it all, and fill up our hard drives.
One thing I notice is how few pictures there are of my mother. I make a point of occasionally getting myself in front of the camera, because I know my kids are going to want to see what I looked like, when they are adults and I am so very much older. They won’t remember much of how I was at this age.
We went to the beach Sunday. It was a glorious day, better than some we’ve had in the summer. No fog, just a sky so blue it hurt to look at it. The kids were happy to dig in the sand and jump in the surf. I spread out a towel near them and let the sun seep into my skin.
And I took pictures of them with my iPhone. Then I turned the camera on me. This is who I am, right now.
Writer, mother, wife, friend.
On the verge.
This post was based on the prompt to show who we were when a photography was taken for Write on Edge.