For days, I’ve been searching for the right words to express a sentiment that has lingered since childhood, inspired by a book I can no longer recall. In my memory, there was a nurturing figure who organized a child’s thoughts, concealing the unpleasant parts while highlighting the beautiful ones.
It’s ironic that I’ve misplaced this guardian image, much like the one J.M. Barrie described in Peter Pan. Now, I find myself taking on the role of my own guardian angel, needing to tidy up my own mind and shield it from negativity.
Currently, there is considerable debate surrounding how individuals utilize social media to curate an idealized version of their lives. Personally, I tend to avoid posting unflattering images, tired snapshots, or pictures depicting chaos, even though I encounter those realities daily. It would be easy to accuse me of only sharing the more aesthetically pleasing moments.
Peter Pan was published in 1911, before the advent of social platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. Throughout history, people have selectively showcased their most joyous experiences, a practice that has only intensified with modern technology. We present these glimmering moments to lighten our existence, as dwelling on the less favorable aspects of life can feel overwhelming. We seek to live in those radiant instances, hoping to create more of them.
Recently, my daughter’s dance instructor brought bubbles to class, accompanied by Judy Garland’s rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Watching my little girl, no longer an infant, joyfully leap to catch bubbles brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were tears of happiness or sadness, but they felt predominantly melancholic. While I experienced this emotional moment, my daughter was blissfully engaged with her peers.
I wanted to linger in that moment of raw emotion, but I refrained from snapping a photo; I knew I would remember it vividly. I reflected on my mother, who experienced a devastating brain bleed at just 68. In my mind, she remains the vibrant woman of her youth, traveling to perform in How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying.
There exists a mental space where painful memories and emotions intertwine—one that even the most caring maternal figure couldn’t tidy up. As I navigated through my emotions, I sought the source of my tears, realizing that my daughter’s joyful moment was deeply intertwined with thoughts of my mother’s decline. I wish for my mother to be present, to cherish her granddaughter’s milestones. On certain days, my daughter bears a striking resemblance to her. I yearn for them to share memories, but time has moved on too swiftly.
Time is fleeting, and it doesn’t pause for anyone. As I pen these words, moments are slipping away, echoing the relentless theme of loss unless we actively choose to embrace the opposite—joy. When we capture a beautiful moment in a photograph, we are, in essence, resisting time. Yet, this endeavor has faced criticism from cynics who dismiss the genuine intentions behind it.
The intention behind sharing beautiful images is not to deceive others or fabricate a perfect life; rather, it’s an effort to defy the constraints of time. Though we may ultimately fail in this endeavor, the attempt itself carries a certain nobility. I cherish photographs, particularly those that encapsulate beautiful moments. They are as honest as the candid images of messy hair or spilled cereal that have become popular. Would we fault an author for publishing only their polished work?
In my own life, I require an internal guardian to manage my thoughts amid the ticking clock of loss, especially as I navigate the emotional landscape of having an ailing mother. The two hours between my daughter falling asleep in my arms and her waking up, calling for me, often feel like an eternity. With every nap, she grows, and I am reminded that while the future holds promise, time is relentless.
“Have you ever tried to map a person’s mind? Attempting to chart a child’s mind is particularly perplexing as it’s constantly in motion… Among all the enchanting places, Neverland is the coziest and most compact. When you play during the day, it seems harmless, but as you settle down for the night, it becomes almost tangible. That’s why we have nightlights.”
An adult’s mind isn’t vastly different. My version of Neverland during the day reflects the vibrant memories of my mother and the lessons she could have imparted to her granddaughter. At night, I find myself watching my daughter chase bubbles, crying as if I were a child lost in a playground. I need the comforting glow of nightlights—I need those beautiful snapshots.
Every time my daughter embarks on her adventures in Neverland, I intend to be there, waiting to welcome her back. I understand all too well the profound sense of loss that arises when a mother is absent from the warmth of the home.
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Summary
In this reflective piece, the author explores the emotional landscape of capturing beautiful moments on social media amid personal loss. The narrative intertwines memories of a beloved mother with the joy of watching a daughter grow, emphasizing that sharing lovely images serves as a means to resist the passage of time and celebrate fleeting happiness.