Life gets complicated, and often I see in the past the seeds of the bad stuff. I forget to see also the seeds of joy. Frankly, I had forgotten that my childhood was pretty happy. Today I spent several hours scanning my father’s slides to digital images, doing so I found myself confronting happiness.
I come from a broken home and we have had our share of trials and tribulations, but before it broke, and even as it was breaking there was love and fun. Good things happened. People who wound up having difficulties and causing pain to one another were not always so.
Being analytic and having trained as an engineer, I am programmed to try to solve problems, to understand what is wrong and try to tweak things to make them better. That colors how I look at the past. I keep looking for what went wrong.
Seeing pictures of myself with my family having fun, the house I grew up with, and even my dad’s old blue pickup truck loaded down with lumber, sort of rubbed my nose in the happiness.
Going through the old pictures allows me to wallow for a bit in the joy, it belongs to me just as much as the other.