Cache and Carry

Uploaded the entire contents of my camera's memory card to my computer tonight, then cleared the card for new photos. Scrolling through all 1,300 pictures carried me back several years. In some cases, seeing certain images again reminded me of a glorious spring day with purple pansies and orange and yellow poppies at the Chicago Botanic Garden or a hot summer afternoon in the park with a granddaughter who couldn't be persuaded to stop sliding down the slide, even for the promise of a "possica" (Popsicle) if she'd come home. All seasons of the past few years were represented in my photos. And that granddaughter showed up older in subsequent photos. Tonight I revisited my parents' last few birthday parties, the last two Mothers' Days, Christmases, Thanksgivings, and twice-a-year visits to my beloved South Haven ~ all with their own happy memories.

A few photos saddened me. Like one of my dog Charlie surrounded by colorful autumn leaves two Octobers ago, because we were about a half mile from home when I shot that photo, and his arthritis would make it impossible for him to walk that far now. And like one of Charlie licking my dad's cheek, because as Alzheimer's has eroded his mind these past few years, he always still asks me how Charlie is ~ until the other day when he asked instead, "Is Charlie a dog?"

My photo cache can carry me from today's blizzard to summer sunflowers.