This is a Throwback Thursday piece, but it’s not funny, it’s more… introspective. I don’t know what it is. Feel free to skip it and come back when I’m funny again.
This is a picture of my sister when she was little. For some reason, pictures just don’t look like that anymore. There are so many filters that try to mimic the ‘old picture’ quality – but I’ve never seen one that truly works. There’s a quality to authenticity that can’t be faked.
There’s something about this picture for me – it makes me nostalgic for a time I can’t quite remember. When the world was filled with magic and possibility. When it was safe and wonderful and anything could happen. And then you get a little older, leave the shelter of your parents and childhood, and encounter a side of the world that just a little more brutal. You get your battle scars, and that’s called living, it’s called life. It’s totally unavoidable.
And it’s ok. It makes you wiser, and stronger. It’s simply a part of growing up. We all go through this process. But the thing is, we do lose something in that process. We lose wonder. We lose awe. We lose wonder and awe at everyday, ordinary life. We stop finding magic and beauty in tiny moments. And as much as I treasure my scars, as much as they show who I am, and exemplify the road I’ve walked, sometimes I want to go back.
Back to a time when magic was possible.