For days, I’ve been on a quest to remember a specific passage from a childhood book—a story that slipped my mind but left a lasting impression. It illustrated a nurturing figure who curated a child’s thoughts, elegantly concealing the unpleasant bits while highlighting the delightful ones.
In a way, it feels ironic to have misplaced the guardian spirit, much like the one J.M. Barrie depicts in Peter Pan. Now, I find myself taking on the role of my own guardian angel, striving to nurture my own mind and shield it from negativity.
Today, there’s a lot of debate around how people use social media to showcase their lives through a filtered lens. I’m not one to share unflattering, messy, or weary snapshots; my daily life offers plenty of those moments. I could easily be labeled as someone who only shares the prettiest aspects of life.
Published in 1911, Peter Pan predates platforms like Instagram and Facebook, yet humans have always been inclined to share the best moments, elevating them for others to admire. We tend to focus on the jewel-like instances of life, allowing us to escape the burdens of reality. In doing so, we hope to cultivate even more of those radiant moments.
Just the other day, my daughter’s ballet instructor created a magical atmosphere by blowing bubbles while playing Judy Garland’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” As I watched my daughter—no longer a baby—leap and catch bubbles, tears streamed down my face.
I can’t say if they were tears of joy or sorrow; perhaps a mix of both. As I indulged in this emotional release, my daughter giggled and danced with her friends, completely in the moment. I wanted to hold onto that feeling, that bittersweet mixture of beauty and sadness, but I refrained from snapping a photo. Some moments, I believe, are too precious to capture.
My thoughts wandered to my mother, who experienced a life-altering brain bleed at just 68. Where was she now? In a far-off place, perhaps, as she struggled to recall our last visit. In my mind, she remains a vibrant 22-year-old, heading to the theater for a performance.
There’s a chaotic intersection in our minds where emotions and memories collide. I searched through this darkness, trying to understand why a joyful moment with my daughter stirred such profound connections to my mother’s decline.
I wish for my mother to remember those precious days spent with her granddaughter. Sometimes, my daughter resembles her so closely. I long for my daughter to know the incredible woman my mother was, but time has slipped away, making that impossible.
Time, after all, is fleeting, and it only moves forward. Every moment counts; they pass relentlessly while I pen these thoughts, echoing the relentless beat of “Loss, Loss, Loss.” Yet, when we capture a beautiful moment in a photograph, we are actively opposing the passage of time. Sadly, some cynics have scorned this endeavor, disregarding the genuine intentions behind sharing our lives.
People often misinterpret beautiful photos, thinking they’re meant to mislead friends about our reality. In truth, they’re a valiant attempt to defy time. While we may ultimately fail, the effort itself is commendable.
I cherish photos, especially those that capture intriguing moments. However, the beautiful ones resonate most deeply. They hold the same honesty as those candid shots of chaos and clutter that have become popular. Would we criticize a writer for polishing a manuscript before sharing the final draft?
Personally, I need an internal figure to guide my thoughts through the night. I grapple with the reality of an ailing mother and the persistent tick of loss that fills the quiet hours between when my daughter drifts off to sleep and when she awakens, a little older, calling out for “Mama.”
As the days pass, she grows taller in the afternoon sunlight. I remind myself that the best is yet to come, but I also recognize that time is running short.
“Have you ever seen a map of a person’s mind?” Imagine trying to chart a child’s thoughts, which are ever-changing and often confusing. Among all the wondrous realms, Neverland is perhaps the most snug and delightful. Playing at it during the day feels harmless, but those fleeting moments before sleep can make it feel all too real.
An adult’s mind isn’t too different. The Neverland I envision during the day is filled with memories of my vibrant mother and all the wisdom she might have shared with her grandchild. At night, I watch my daughter chase after bubbles, and I can’t help but shed tears, feeling like a lost child in an endless playground.
I need those comforting moments, those beautiful images. And every time my daughter journeys to her Neverland, I will be there, illuminated by the warmth of the firelight, waiting for her return. I am all too aware of the ache that comes when a mother is no longer there to greet you by the fire.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the importance of sharing beautiful moments on social media as a way to combat the passage of time and to honor cherished memories. It delves into the bittersweet emotions tied to motherhood and loss while advocating for the beauty of capturing life’s fleeting moments.
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