The Joy of Remembrance

There’s a joy I find in the act of remembering. I recently put up on my walls a wide array of photo prints, polaroids, and ticket stubs/fortune readings/post-its from the last years. They’re pictures of friends, group photos, street photography, landscapes, and random things I’ve picked up over the years as memoirs of an event. There’s the entrance stub for a museum exhibition I saw in Italy, that struck me in a particular way (perhaps in part because of a budding romance). There’s a post-it with the chords I wrote down for a song I’m making with a friend. A raffle ticket from a trip to Manitou with friends. Pictures from almost every trip I’ve taken in the last five years.

It’s almost overwhelming how many memories it brings back when I look at my walls now, and I couldn’t be happier.

Our history is what makes us who we are, and if we don’t keep the important stuff at the forefront, it’ll fade away. I choose these moments because I know I was smiling like an idiot in 90% of them. The shot of my dad and uncle walking ahead of me after a fishing trip, the one of a friend doing exaggerated karate poses on Pike’s Peak, the exhausted friend looking out over the California ocean.

I’d encourage everyone to print out those pictures you’ve got sitting in your camera roll. See what makes you smile, and put it on your wall for pete’s sake. Life is too short and confusing to forget the things that made us happy.

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