I love this photo of me and my girl laughing at the store. We were trying on matching clothes at an area discount store. And we found it hilarious.
I had this very same experience when I was sixteen at Gantos, trying on formal wear with my cousin that we had no intention of purchasing. We took pictures of each other wearing the high end fashions until we were asked to leave. Surely the giggling gave us away.
Nearly 30 years later, here I am again. It’s a very simple amusement. And yet, it was so liberating and funny. I ask, what is age? A number, yes. How do we define ourselves? By said number? We are of a certain age, therefore certain things should no longer be amusing? Should we outgrow video games and superheroes or trade in beer for wine?
Sure, the constructs of society guide us to what is acceptable and what is not. But when something brings us joy, should we shun it? (If we’re not hurting anyone by our joy?) I don’t feel my age. I don’t feel my shoe size either. I’m somewhere in between. I’m old enough to have a solid collection of experiences, but I’m not through touching, tasting, feeling or learning.
I want to collect as many moments as I can of pure joy- of spontaneous laughter. I don’t need the photos to remember them by, but they help. And they remind me that even when life is tough and I’m busy juggling schedules and the chaos of life, that there still can be such moments.
When I’m comfortable enough to toss aside the confines of my life, when I open myself to the possibility of pure joy- of being entirely present in the moment- joy sneaks up from within and takes over me. And I smile so big, I impulsively cover my mouth, in hopes of containing it for a little while longer.