Time capsule

Today I dug out a huge box (remember those debate tubs? this box is bigger than those) from the garage containing old cards and photographs. I couldn’t remember having ever seen most of these photos, even though many of them date from my lifetime as well as my parents’.

Two important realizations:
One:
The reason Shra is so much more incredibly stunning than I am is not just because she’s skinnier, but because she takes after Mommy. In those old photos of Mommy and Daddo… Mommy is just gorgeous. Gajus. Mommy’s a pretty attractive mommy at her present age, but I hardly even recognized her in some of these. Why have people not told us how amazingly beautiful she looked at thirty? At our age, even? And in some of those photos Mommy looks exactly like Shra. It’s quite shocking really. So I realized that this is where Shra gets it from, and that I do not inherit this, and that’s okay. I like the way I look, but I know I’m not a stunner like Shra is (I know what you’re going to say, Erik love, and you’re sweet). But it’s enough to be proud of my beautiful sister and my lovely mommy. 🙂

Two: I was/am the most spoiled kid I ever saw. Not spoiled by money or possessions–I didn’t lack for those, but we didn’t have tons of money at that time (not that we do now!). Mommy made most of my clothes and I think most of my toys were gifts from other people. But just looking at the pictures, it’s easy to see that I’m the happiest kid. There are only two photos in which I’m not totally smiling or happy. In the first I look like I’m about to bawl, and the other one I’m drooling into my bowl because I’m falling asleep. But out of such a huge box of pictures, there are only two less-than-joyful ones, that’s it. I don’t think this is just because I’m a naturally happy person. The photo record of my earliest few years shows a child just showered with love. My parents used to live with Mommy’s dad, sister, and two brothers, and since I was the first kid, I got all the excitement, attention and affection a big family is capable of bestowing. There are pictures of multiple adults holding me or standing around me, pictures of my grandpa teaching me to count, or my uncle playing the violin for me… I can’t believe how much love I received. It’s not fair! It has nothing to do with my character, it’s just because I was born first. I feel… guilty? Indebted? And yet that’s ridiculous, too. It isn’t anyone’s fault one way or another. I do wonder, though, what impact all this love had on my personality and outlook…

Want to see some of the lovely pictures? 😀 IM or email me and I’ll send you the link, as long as I know you. Family pictures are too sweet to show any weirdos out there who might have found my journal. ;b

[This post was imported on 4/10/14 from my old blog at satsumabug.livejournal.com.]

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