Take Time

Chad wore shoes to correct the inward curve of his foot, so his shoes always looked like they were on backwards.  He must have been about six months in this photo, and I'll disinherit any one of my children who puts this up on FB.  This is private stuff--blog only.  Yesterday's post was about looking at a picture of myself and wondering where I'd gone.  That's how many of these older photos hit me.  Like those bell-bottoms.  Back in fashion now, and this was -- how old are you now, Chad? -- thirty-plus years ago, let's just say.

Many of these negatives have acquired a magenta cast to them, so they scan in more green.  I worked on this photograph for a long time, but it's still very green, which makes our lips quite pink when I try to adjust for the offending hue.  But I still love this photograph even though I look about twelve years old.  I found another one that was taken on the day we brought Chad home from the hospital after his birth.  I look about nine in that one.

This is my sister Susan, pregnant with her son Jeff.  As I said, because the magenta had taken over the negatives, I found some success in stripping out all the color, leaving behind the black-white values.  Check out those plastic pants on Chad.  We were standing in the backyard of my house in Provo; it was summertime as Chad was born in April (I think it snowed that week).  I love Susan's hair, the casual way she holds Chad, the smile on her face -- all pointing to the fact that she was relaxed and happy and would be a great mom herself (she is, and she was).

In some ways it's easier to look back and remember the sweetness of those milky-smelling babies, their chubby legs, summer afternoons.  We don't remember colicky nights, fights with the husband over too many extra baby pounds, the incessant pounding of the drum to finish school, become somebody, find your way, get there get there get there.  The "There" lay ahead of us in some grand glorious vision of possibility and all the bad things that happened would be stripped away once We'd Made It.  The future is a seductive thing, moving our focus away from the here and now.  But as I look back, it's evident that the Here and Now is all we ever really have.

So grab those chubby babies, walk away from the dishes, the housecleaning, the financial reports, the papers to write and the ballgames on TV, and and play Chinese Checkers or dolls or take a picnic or a walk one more time with your kids.  For when you look back -- and you will through those misty lenses of time -- you'll be able to see what I see now: a wonderful set of memories, triggered by old photographs.