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What Life Feels Like When You Choose Not to Document It
Most of the images of my life are not tangible.
We spent 48 hours roaming around small towns in Northern Arizona, driving back roads to get there. We stayed at a 103-year-old bed and breakfast, drank a stunning Malvasia wine at a table overlooking a vineyard, and watched the fog roll in over red rocks. It was our first vacation together.
I have no proof that any of this actually happened.
I took one picture the entire time my boyfriend and I were on our mini-vacation. It was of a bumblebee on a flower on the lushly planted patio to our room. I had never seen one so big. Chris was amused that I had turned into an 8-year-old with my level of excitement and suggested I take the bee’s picture. We laughed.
There is nothing posted on social media. I sent no pictures to friends. Not one selfie was taken of myself or of us. What I have though, are loads of memories no one else will ever see.
Our first night away, we met the family that was sharing the small bed and breakfast with us. There were only three other rooms in the place besides ours. It has sprawling gardens and we took a bottle of wine out to watch the sunset.
Chris brought his guitar and someone else had a ukelele. All of us sat out there…
