Yesterday was the kids’ first day of school. I meant to take a picture of them. A photo from the first day is traditional, and it makes a nice page in the yearly photo album. But I forgot to take the picture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Perfectionist Me says, “You really screwed up! You missed your chance, and you’re going to regret it later.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Practical Me says, “Take the picture tomorrow. No one will know the difference, not even you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nonconformist Me says, “Why does it have to be the first day anyway? Why not the third, or the seventeenth, or the one-hundred-and-eleventh?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Grumpy Me says, “Good. That’s one fewer picture to squeeze into the album!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All the Mes have valid points of view. Perfectionist Me and Grumpy Me want to dwell on the negative, though, and that’s not a good way to start the school year. I’m going to listen to Practical Me and Nonconformist Me instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What I’ll do is take some pictures of the kids this week, as well as some later in the year. When it comes time to make the album, I’ll pretend that one was a first-day picture, or I’ll come up with a different label for it, or I’ll contrast a photo from early in the year with one late in the year, or I’ll make a distance-learning collage. Or maybe I’ll come up with an ever better idea before then. I can’t know which way I’ll go until all the pictures have been taken (or not). But I am sure of one thing: I’m the keeper of my own memories, and I can do anything I want with them. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Yesterday was the kids’ first day of school. I meant to take a picture of them. A photo from the first day is traditional, and it makes a nice page in the yearly photo album. But I forgot to take … Continue reading