I spent the day with my grandsons and their mom. We were taking the kids to get Christmas pictures made. It was a much bigger deal to me than it was to my daughter. Her generation doesn’t understand the need for a studio picture with a beautiful back drop. For clean faces and perfectly combed hair. For a framed photograph that says these people matter. “Mom,” she said in that particular voice daughters use when explaining things to their mother. “I do not understand why we need professional pictures of these boys. They are the most photographed kids in the history of time.” She was right and her comment made me laugh. I seriously take more pictures than any human should. If you are facebook friends with me you already know this. I’m sorry. I really am. But I love the bits and pieces of life. The way my littlest grandson grins up at his grandpa. The way the light catches my daughter’s face as it climbs through her kitchen window. When she’s there at her sink doing dishes I see me. I see my mom. I see her. I don’t want to miss that. So, I photograph it. This gets me in more trouble than paying for professional photographs. “Mom!,” she says exasperated. “If you post that anywhere I’ll kill you.” I laugh, but I promise her it’s only for me. I think whatever that part of me is is also the part of me that makes me sit down and write. I so want to capture all of the tiny things that make life beautiful. Magic. Worth all of the pain that comes hand in hand with the wonder. Sometimes words work and sometimes I need a picture. For instance, if I could have, I would have photographed myself making a series of totally ridiculous faces at my grandsons today trying to get them to smile for their pictures. Can you just imagine what that must have looked like? A slightly old grandma bugging out her eyes and sticking out her tongue while she hopped from foot to foot. What a picture that would have been. I can guarantee my husband would pay big money for that shot. Honestly though, I do wish you would have been in that studio to see the sweet smiles. The hair combed into a perfect point and protected by little hands all the way there in the car. The careful way the big one balanced the baby on his lap. The serious consideration of which lollipop to choose when it was over. Oh, and their mother making her own faces and jumping up and down right beside me trying to help get the perfect picture. That might have been the best part of the whole day. Looking over at her and grinning because we were in it together. Remembering doing the same thing with my mom. Feeling again the blending of time. It was some serious Christmas magic y’all. I hope, if you’re getting family pictures made this season, you feel it too. If you can, grab your phone and photograph what’s going on behind the scenes. I would love to see it. I promise I won’t tell your daughter you showed me. If you don’t tell mine.