Old Photos

I love looking through old photographs.

I love seeing my parents at a party. My mum in her dress and my dad in his suit.

I love seeing my grandparents on their wedding day. Smiling and laughing as they dance together.

I love seeing my great-grandparents sitting in deckchairs on the beach. Blankets on their knees and a flask of tea at their feet.

I love seeing my family's old neighbors and friends playing football or throwing a ball for the dog, clinking glasses and having dinner and opening presents.

And when I look at these photos, I never find myself wondering what size dress my mum was wearing at that party.

I never notice whether my grandad's laughter had left lines on his forehead.

I never pay attention to the size of the neighbor's nose or the brand of the friend's outfit or whether my great-grandma's hair was frizzy as she sat at the beach pouring tea for my great-grandpa.

Because I don't actually look through old photographs to see things. I do it to feel things. Nostalgia and joy and gratitude.

Love.

Because we are not here to be something to look at. Like all those people before us, in all the old photographs, we are here to be someone. Someone who brings life to moments and memories.

So, I've stopped worrying about how I look in photographs. Stopped worrying that the wind makes my hair stick up or my laughter makes my teeth stick out.

Because one day, the people that matter most to me will be left with lots of old photographs, and when they look at them, I know they won't care how I looked.

As long as that picture is still full of life.

And as long as I look like I was living in each moment.

Every single one of them.

******