|Me and my sister Jenny|
|Jenny and Grandma|
|Mom in the late 80's|
I went beach hopping with (most of) my family yesterday. The weather was gorgeous: not too hot but sunny enough to swim in the water. Lots of sunscreen was used. We stopped by Crescent Beach for a couple hours, and then White Rock.
|Jacqueline (my baby cousin), Jenny, me, and Grandma|
My mother likes photography. I get really annoyed whenever I spot her clutching her pink Sony Cybershot at family events or outings but now that I think about it, I understand why she would like to hold onto a piece of the present.
Because the present becomes the past, and once a moment has passed, you can't get it back.
My mom has gigantic photo albums hidden in her walk-in closet (remember when people would stick printed photos in physical albums and not just upload digital ones to Facebook? yeah, me neither :P) which I used to love flipping through as a kid. It's weird seeing tinier versions of yourself doing things that you don't do anymore right in front of you, eyes fixed and frozen in time.
I can also spot a few photos where I'm giving the "obviously fake smile" (the one I use when I want to show I'm angry that someone is taking my photo -- almost always, that someone is my mom), even though the change in my smile is miniscule and certainly undetectable by others. I find this ability a comfort, that I above all others can tell when my smile is sincere or an act.
And I think I inherited my mother's love of portraits and photographs of people.
What's that super cheesy saying about a picture...?
Yeah, the one you're thinking right now.
With a minor adjustment. Those words are in the eye of the beholder, and sometimes they may be aligned with reality, and sometimes they may be aligned with the unconscious.