Remember when no one shared photos of Christmas morning because they were all bed-headed and crusty-eyed?
Remember when “sharing photos” meant getting your film developed and handing someone a photo album or just a pile of prints to flip through?
Remember slide shows?
Remember when your dad set up the camcorder in the living room to record the opening of the presents and then no one ever watched it?
Ever?
Remember when you’d never held an icing bag or thought about cookie technique, when you made the same floury cookies each year and doused them in icing and they all stuck together in the cookie jar?
When it didn’t matter what they looked like because no one ever saw them?
Remember when Winter Break meant going two weeks without seeing your friends because it was family time, when you had to ask permission to use the phone if you wanted to call them, and half the time permission was denied? Remember the phone that hung on the wall in the kitchen, where if you were lucky you had that eight-foot long curly cord to stretch into the next room for a little privacy, or to wrap around your fingers until they turned pink then red then purple. When your mom stood there not looking at you but listening the whole time, smiling at the edge of her mouth and taking way too long washing the dishes?
Because she didn’t have a dishwasher?
Remember when your grandma made divinity and you hated it but you ate it, and for some reason you wanted to learn how to make it yourself?
Remember when everyone just smiled and got along?
Nah, me neither.
The Sensitive, Bookish Type 