What IS It about Old Pictures...

that makes you want to bawl your face out?

I mean, I lead a perfectly content, challenged, intellectually stimulated and emotionally satisfying existence with the love of my life, a great family, and more blessings than I can keep track of...

So, why is it, when I glimpse a photo of childhood, I find my hand drifting toward a roll of toilet paper to gently dry my flooding cheeks?

Is it the nostalgia? The lost innocence? Realization of age? Sweet memories? I mean, I'm sure life was great right before I turned six years old, but I think it's radically better now that I:
1) Do not share a bathroom with my siblings
2) Drive
3) Prepare whatever I want for meals
4) DO NOT SIT THROUGH PHONICS CLASSES AND BAND PRACTICE
5) Live the way I want to live, skip what I don't like, watch whatever I please on TV

....

AND

...

(as I often reference to Nick)
Live the part of our lives we've been waiting for; ever since our parents used to say, "You can do that when you're older," "you can do whatever you like someday but right now..."

I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT INCLUDING WRITING A BLOG ABOUT HOW I LOVE BEING ABLE TO DO WHATEVER I WANT.

So, why the tears?

I have no clue. I look at that stupid bowl-shaped haircut and remember getting trounced by my brothers, tagging along at the heels of my sister, and never getting what I wanted because I was the youngest and had to wait my turn for everything.
But, any picture of childhood has a mysterious power to send me into a sniffling state of brokenness.

::sniffle::