Mama-Come-Lately

This morning I realized that none of us took any photos of the Boo opening presents. I also realized that I am not sad about that.

All three of the adults in the house were sick, or recovering from sickness, on Christmas morning. I woke up with vertigo, so it was all I could do to hang on to the walls as I shuffled to and from the couch. My mom took care of the Boo (and me) while he opened presents and Daddy slept off yet another day of The Flu That Would Not Die. Then I went back to bed when the Dramamine sent me spiraling down to La-La Land. But because I had almost literally dragged myself to the couch, I got to see the Boo open presents, which was enjoyable even with waves of nausea and a spinning head. So I don’t feel like I missed all that much.

It’s true that on occasion we like to go back through photos of past Christmases. But we do that so rarely that I’m not sure I’ll miss having photos of this particular Christmas, the particular wrapping paper and presents and reactions (and with an iPhone camera, we usually miss the best shots). And it occurs to me that relying on our memories may be just as good, or even better, in terms of conjuring the feelings we get when we look at photos. That’s what we’re after anyway, right? Recapturing those pleasurable moments of seeing and experiencing the joy of family members receiving gifts?

And here’s another bonus: Without having a phone in front of our faces, scrambling for the perfect shot, we were really there, fully present and feeling everything. Without photos to focus on, we will talk to each other, our faces reflecting the shared experience, and maybe amplifying it.

So yeah, I’m not sad about not having photos from Christmas 2017.  I may even make it a new family tradition.