No, I am talking about the posts that invite us on a shared journey into our earlier lives. This life, not a past one. They usually comprise photos of the way we were. In extreme cases, and I am guilty of this, they may even be our baby photos, though, in my case, what interest my low-slung nappies and slobbering lips had to the Facebook Fraternity was certainly called into question.
But, what is fascinating about some of these posts is not what they are, but what they represent. I have a very good friend: a woman with a fine and now adult family. She and I have been friends for about 40 years, though we lost touch for a long time—time enough for her to have her family, for them to grow up, and for me to have forgotten what she looked like 40 years ago.
Last week I was reminded.
Her daughter, a beautiful young woman in her own right, posted a photo of herself as a young child—perhaps four—dancing with my friend, her mother, then probably in her 20s. Being a photo, one can only imagine the exuberance of that dance. However, it is patently there. And there is also in that photo a sense of the now—not the past, as short as it was, nor the future that would challenge them both. But of the moment, of the present, of the share joy of being together, captured so many years ago in one photo and shared just last week by the daughter to celebrate her mother’s birthday.
And to share the love.
The term share the love can these days be rather trite. Nevertheless, it can often be an expression of sheer and sincere intent. Facebook, for all its faults, can be good for that,
Thank You Mark Zuckerberg
Thank you Sarah.
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