Fifteen Years, Fifteen Tabs, and a Thousand Emotions

I sat down to write a blog post. One. Singular. Quick. Admin.

Two hours later, I was still sitting there, misty-eyed, surrounded by open tabs, and deep in the throes of a digital time warp. What began as a simple scroll through my photo library turned into a full-blown emotional rollercoaster with absolutely no warning.

One minute I was looking for a picture. The next, I was staring at a blurry video from 2010 of my then-toddler dancing like no one (and very much everyone) was watching. And just like that, it started: the slow, sweet unravelling of time.

The thing is, I wasn’t planning on reminiscing. But that’s the magic of memories, isn’t it? They don’t ask permission. They show up with muddy knees and soft smiles, with voices a little smaller than I remember and sunlight that doesn’t hit the same way anymore.

I laughed at the ridiculous. I blinked back tears at the tender. I marvelled at the growth—not just the kids (who now steal my snacks and mock my music taste), but me. My life. My choices. My everything.

So yes, today’s blog post never got written. Instead, I time-travelled through fifteen years of quiet magic. And I realised: I want more of those photos. Not the perfect ones. The ones of cereal bowls and shoe piles, messy hair and late-night puzzles. The ones I’ll forget if I don’t catch them.

Take the photo. Take all the photos. You’ll never regret remembering more than you planned to.

(And tomorrow? I might actually write that post. Or spiral again. Who knows.)