I think I’ll take this one quite literally today.

I LOVE taking pictures. I HATE being in pictures. I’ll do it but I am typically the one behind the camera. Looking back at photos of myself as a child, my mother is in a lot of them because it was my father who had he knack for photography. I specifically remember a very exact time. I was perhaps 3 or 4 and my father and I were in our dining room. By the light, I think it was about 4 PM and he was taking my picture by the table; maybe the lighting was just perfect or I was doing something cute but it’s the first time I can remember being prompted to act a certain way for the camera.

Because I am at work, I have no access to the old scans but one of my all-time goals is to collect my parents’ boxes of pictures and get them digitized. Since 2003, I have been taking digital photos but there is something magical about those old actual hold-in-your-hand pictures. I used to love to look through the photo albums of my family. It conjured up so many good (and some bad) memories. Then, when I got older and got my own cameras, I prided myself on taking good shots and getting the film developed.

I hold the capturing of a moment in time very dear. I’ve always been a collector and a diary-keeper so this makes a lot of sense. I want to know what we were doing in X year on X day. I have perhaps an unhealthy fascination with the past; I guess I think I’ll eventually learn something from it!

As an added bonus, I shall share some photos from long ago. Ok, well, eight years ago but that’s how far back my online collection goes.