Little do I understand the power of looking back and being able to reflect on the things of the past.
For when replayed over and over again,
my hurts tend to lose their sharp and bitter sting,
my good times start to warp into something more fond,
and the monotony of my days past makes the present all the more appealing.
However the more I pick through these times, the easier it gets faded like smudges on the gloss of photo.
Soon I fear that I will forget these moments with no tangible reminders or worldly attachments.
Yet maybe that's for the best after all my scrapbook only has so many pages and the new photos will need a space to be held until they too become worn.
But now it is time to shelve my scrapbook and take my camera up again.
To make new moments worth remembering.
To live in the moment until the cold days come back and I pick up my scrapbook again.