Here's the crappy thing...they won't even remember. I hate that. There is this Mormon wive's tale that when you are dead and in the Celestial Kingdom, you will get to watch a movie of your life. Like your whole life will be recorded and you'll be in a theatre room, like the folks have in their basements who live in ritzy areas, and you'll have a remote control, and you'll get to watch your life again. This seemed kind of cool. Like everything was preserved somewhere, so if you forgot any of the details, don't sweat it- we have it on record. Plus, it was kind of cool, because if you'd had a fight with your sibling, say over who took the last piece of cake from the counter the night before, you would have proof positive eventually. It might take for fetching ever, but one day you'd prove that your sister was a fat thief. Oh, the revenge will be sweet.
It was slightly creepy though, the thought of someone up above with their handheld video camera, on you at all times. A little like the Truman Show. I mean there are some things you just DO NOT want recorded. Hello, post baby sex. That would be traumatic. But, you just figured that the people in the editing room were like grandmas who wouldn't be grossed out by your post baby belly or you having sex, and would just want to give you a scone and say, "A for Effort".
Oh my gosh, where in the world am I going with all of this? Oh, so now I don't buy the whole "video tape" bit. I don't think that it was doctrine anyways. Not like double ear piercings and the really life threatening stuff that made the official cut. Nope, probably just some scare tactic thought up by some parent, who was like, "Oh, I will bust you eventually for that scrape on the side of my car...just you wait till the next life!" Or maybe some husband who was like, "Honey, it's ok that the video camera is out of tape, because remember that this is all on tape up above, so we'll see his first steps again, and this time with a better angle!"
So, yeah, now when the moment has gone- it's gone. Sure, we all have the memories of the event, but how reliable is that? Gavin and I don't even agree on what we both just ate for dinner. So, I record. I record because it makes me sane(ish). I record because I ran in to a twelve year old who lived in Boston when I was out there, and I was like, "Hi! Do you remember me? When you were five you did this, and when you were eight you did this, and I remember your mom and dad doing this and how your house was like this..." And she was all, "Who is this crazy lady and what in the hello is she rambling on about?" I was shocked. I mean, I know that thankfully toddlers do not remember a lot, probably so that they don't sue us when they are of legal age, but I seriously thought that five and eight year olds remembered stuff. I mean, I do...kind of. I remember weird stuff, little details, feelings mostly. Some scenes. But not all of it. So, I was like, "What a stinkin waste!" Not to her. But to myself, I was like, "What is the point? I could just photoshop my kids heads in to a bunch of fun scenes and swear to them that they had the best life ever!" But because I don't really know how to use photoshop, I journal instead. I get to tell them how I see it. And then when they doubt me, or where my mental state came from later in life, I can just show them the proof.
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