I don’t think I’ve ever been good at it. I read alot of blogs and some write SO. WELL!
**Cough… Prete Moi Paris… cough. 🙂
(Love her blog)
I’m not good at it but I’ve come up with ADreamToParis to document everything that I’m going through and will be going through. Something like this has never happened to me.
To want something so much for so long and it finally happening? Is unbelievable.
I am one of those people who forgets things easily now. I make lists, put appointments in my phone and it’s still not enough. Don’t ask me why but Im convinced I’ve been working with my boss way too long and he’s rubbed off on me. haha.
(He is really the best though)
I forget the little details of moments. I don’t remember things from my France trip 3 years ago.
Things that I told myself I would and could never forget.
I don’t think it’s the “picture” that I don’t want to forget, it’s the feeling it gave me at that specific moment in time.
Like the first time I pulled up to my Mamie’s town for the first time in over 13 years. That warm feeling of being somewhere where the scent of “the place” sticks with you forever. Before this trip, I would find myself always thinking “it smells like France outside” but I haven’t been in 12 years. How does the mind remember these things?
Or the first time I saw the Calanques in Marseille by boat. The dark blue waters so blue, deep and thick you were scared to jump in scared that something would come from under you but once you did, you could stick your feet straight down and still see them. I felt like the moment could be in a movie.
Or the moment of seeing someone, wanting the moment never to end but then he says “I need to get going” and you both somehow manage to let go.
You wish you could have a photograph of the feeling that hug gave you and keep it in a safe place. A place you could go back to when things get tough.
I hope to look back on this blog and look at photos and say to myself, “I REMEMBER THAT!!! HOW FUN!”, or “Woah, one too many bottles of rosé” or “We laughed so much, I blew soup noodles out of my nose.”
In the end, 10-15 years down the road, I want to remember the feelings behind the photographs (or words) no matter what they are.