I took a while to hop on the Instagram bandwagon, but when I did, I did so without looking back. The thing is, I’ve had so many cameras fall victim to the intensity of our pace—hiking (rocks are not soft to land on), swimming (water is just so wet), traveling (things get misplaced), going in five different directions at warp speed (some things get left behind, usually not people).

Pausing briefly to allow certain snarky friends to mutter, “It’s you, not the cameras.”

Anyway, I love Instagram because I (almost) always have my phone. I can snap pictures and despite poor lighting, clumsy composition or general carelessness, I can usually snap something that with a wee bit of filter love can become something that reaches inside of me and reignites a moment.

I can feel the coolness of the slide as I lean in to take her photo;
feel the wind behind me and hear her squeals.

I can hear the sound of Cabin 3 playing and feel the heavily lacquered table
beneath me as I feel the warmth from her beaming face at doing a grown up thing
and enjoying chocolate milk past bedtime, and those early potent hints
of little girl slipping away to reveal who she’ll become.

Removing the color strips the memory down to snow and smiles,
the burning in my legs from run after run down the sledding hill
and the relief of having said yes.

I love knowing that revelations I’ve had about the strength that lies beneath pig tails
and missing teeth will stay with me in little wisps of now that are preserved.

Yesterday I took a picture as I raced to make a conference call to a cross country client. I was worried, doubting my preparation and embarrassed and frustrated not to have child care in place. I was setting Finley up with an activity, she till had the satisfaction of a trip to the library and reading stories from our perch on a sun drenched love seat. There is no guilt or longing, it was a moment that embodies the challenge I face every day in playing the roles of mom and business owner. Outside the frame there is chaos, but in the frame and all that matters to me, there is a beautiful, happy, healthy little girl in an environment that I know she’ll remember fondly.

Thank you Instagram, for helping me filter and sort the beauty and mayhem of my life
into a moments I can shuffle and revisit with the gentle swipe of a finger.