The old photos make me conscious of my age. I peer at the photo of my son at three years old, laughing in pure abandon as he pulled on a cowboy hat. Where’d he ever get that hat? How’d I take that candid picture without a cell phone? Where’d my old camera go?
And next to the “cowboy” photo is one of me, reading to my daughter, six years old at the time. Did I really look that young? Back then, I thought I was old, almost 35! Continue reading