Each picture touches me as I touch the glossy surface, running my fingers over moments captured.
Mine. His. Families broken.
Ours. New families created from the dust and devastation.
Frozen in time are smiles, touches, looks.
Facades created by a pose and a flash.
It’s after the camera was put away on shelves, in closets, in pockets of purses, that real life discredited the pictures of the yours and the mine.
Behind the red eyes and toothy smiles.
The cooing over babies.
The suspended hugs and kisses.
Is the sad authentic reality.
Moments, suspended in time, are more like life fiction.
Now, those photos are being gathered and grouped to put into a montage for the B’nai Mitzvah, where my daughter and stepson will celebrate the Jewish coming of age.
The fragments of happy moments joined to create a whole for everyone to enjoy.
For our children to share with their guests, happily watching in ignorant bliss. Not knowing the truth their parents carry with them of the stories from before and after each beautiful photo.
But only I know, as I’m touching each picture, looking to see which ones are the best angle, best smile, cutest look…
What really went on behind the camera,
which led us to where we are now.
Celebrating a simcha of the yours, mine and ours.
With the entire yours, mine and ours.
To capture more moments of both truth and lies.
For our children to someday sort through, touch, and know the truth.
Moments aren’t always how they appear.
Some are happier. Others, not.
But this B’nai Mitzvah celebration,
captured and perhaps used for the next generations video montage,
the smiles, red eyes, touches and looks…
from and between all of us,
will be genuine.
Pride and love sincere.
And I hope that, someday when the celebrants are reminiscing, they will remember that the stories of before and after were as perfect as the photos that captured the moments.