The gift of childhood

This is just one reason I love photographs. I don't remember this moment of being read to by my oh so young, dashing father. But seeing it makes me feel like I do. It does make the memories of my childhood flood into my mind and heart. I remember one afternoon laying on my parents bed next to my dad in Payson, I was probably 8. We were listening to the theme song from Chariots of Fire. As we listened he asked me what I thought of when I listened to the music. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember talking about the stars in the night sky. For some reason this is a memory I've chosen to hold safe in my heart. A simple, yet for me, intimate moment. I know I felt safe, I felt loved. I felt that I was being asked my opinion and it mattered even though I was a child. Then I think back to our trips to Disneyland, do I remember that? Yes, parts. Did I feel like I did while laying on that bed listening to music? Nope.

When I see this image, I simply feel. All good things.



Sometimes I forget how much the small moments count. The moments where I stop what I'm doing and look at the child talking to me- in the eyes, on their level. I forget that I'm responsible this time for creating those tender moments with my own children. Ones that are simple. Moments, and hopefully memories where they will feel safe, feel loved and feel like they matter. They matter more than anything I am doing. Moments that when they are 34 when they think back to those moments they feel like a child all over again. Now it's my turn to give the gift that I was given.