One of my favourite things are photos. I'm certainly not a talented photographer. Our camera is average (it probably would work much better had I not dropped it at least five times).
The reason I love photos so very much is that they help me to remember. And, more often than not, what I remember is a pleasant memory.
When I look at this picture I only see cute little kids.
I'm awfully glad I have this picture - and yes, it's "scalloped" because I stole it from a photo album - because I don't really remember this point in my life. Emma had just been born, Josh was in half-day kindergarden, and Kate was almost two. It is a total blur. I kind of remember being busy. I was in survival mode - simply taking care of what needed taken care of. I was working two evenings a week, Rob and I barely saw each other, and I blissfully can't remember any of it.
I often peruse our pictures, because I honestly forget what our kids looked like when they were little. I find myself getting so caught up in the rush of life, that I use this as my way of looking back. I wrote this post last spring about pictures and the memories they spark. It's true that photos usually capture just a moment in time, and don't tell the whole story - but I don't think it's a bad thing if all we have are good memories!