Pictures have always been important to me. I think perhaps it’s because I felt like I didn’t belong, I didn’t quite fit,  the pictures  brought up memories, some of them would transport me back to that time, moment, and feeling, others I had forgotten, the pictures jogged my memory, a form of exercising my mind/brain, and maybe a feeling of belonging.

In pictures you usually see yourself happy, surrounded by friends, loved ones, or places you cherish. These are all things one wants to remember, on the flip side if you look closely you might see things you hadn’t seen before, like your mother giving you a dirty look, while you are blissfully unaware.

A picture can say a thousand words! 

For some reason my mother has kept all my childhood pictures from me. I have tried over and over again, to explain the importance of them to me and my desire to see them again, scan them and have my memories, but she will not allow me to have access to them.

I find this cruel and unusual punishment, I am still not sure and probably will never be, why she continues to punish me anyway she can. It doesn’t make sense to me, in order to let it go as much as I possibly can.s I have to see it as a blessing in disguise.  

♓️Thankful, Grateful & Blessed!