Lux: children dreaming on the shoulders of their parents. Should be a series.
Joan: in the closet after picking out her clothes. “I look beautiful mama.”
Alma: She’s discovering all the wonderful ways to use her hands these days.
Occasionally I look at Alma and worry I’m not taking enough photos. Is that stage gone already? Did I catch it? Did I even get one look at it? I think to myself. I don’t think I worried about this with Lux. Maybe I know now that when it’s gone, it’s gone. Or maybe I’m more addicted to documenting than ever before, and documenting one moment simply leads to wanting to document the next, and the next.
And yet I must be subconsciously finding it unsatisfying to rely on them as a record of what happened–as of course they are. What I want is a mental state that has documented all this. One enriched by all these wonderful things my eyes have photographed. I find it remarkable I can still manage to spin a day and say, that was too much, I was so weak and tired, oof glad it’s over. If I just took a moment to review my mental images from the day, it would be full of sweet wonder, blessing, and love.
It reminds me that a mental state of thankfulness and contentment is not a reflection of reality–it won’t appear, no matter how much beauty I see–but an attitude built on habit.