Films About Ghosts

As my cleaning project continued this weekend, I developed a greater appreciation for digital photos as I muddled through boxes and boxes and boxes of photos. And as I looked at each photo, lifetimes flashed behind me.

I found photos of my former self as a little girl wearing a mask scaring my little brother. Photos of my keen fashion sense as a tween. Neon colored fruit pants and striped shirts w. jelly shoes is really a trend that has yet to hit the market. Photos of our childhood summers spent at the beach as we built castles and pulled practical jokes on each other. My former girl self. Free and careless.

And than of course the college photos. Many taken with too much alcohol involved. Many taken with the hopes none of us will be running for public office in the near future. However, I could become a wealthy woman due to blackmail should that happen. Photos of us in costumes,and no it's not Halloween, playing croquet at midnight.

Photos of road trips. Jason and I have driven across this country probably about a dozen times. We have photos of the largest ball of twine, Gus the Dog in New Orleans in front of Cafe Du Monde before he ate a benet and took a giant dump in the French Quarter. Photos of lighthouses from every coast.

All sorts of photos of my various adventures. Lakes in Minnesota in the early morning light with the mist dancing off the tops. Tops of Mountains in Alaska reached only by taking 3 days to backpack to the top and than dancing in the snow in the middle of August. Distant Mayan ruins in Mexico where the monkeys chattered chooed and we swam in the forbidden pools in the rain forest.

Photos of friends and family who have gone too soon. My grandpa's, Jason's Grandpa's, our dear friend Mr. Breen. Friends that I've lost touch with but miss dearly.

Yet, as I muddled through the piles and boxes of photos and the 1/2 dozen photo albums I have bought to store them in, I realized that as nice as digital photography is, sitting at the computer and searching various files looking at photos doesn't have the same feeling of nostalgia.

I took the photos and diligently placed them back into their various shoe boxes, and the ghosts smiled back at me knowing that it wouldn't be long until I was back.

I may have some printing and shoe shopping to do.

(I owe the title of this post to a line from the Counting Crow'song- Mrs. Potters Lullaby- not my own creative psyche.)