Last night I went to visit my in-laws. Ray's mother was in work and his gran is poorly so after a bit of chatting we amused ourselves with some old photos Ray had found.

I come from a family that documented most of our lives from childhood onwards. Actually, I think it slowed down once we all got into our teens but then we were able to take over the job ourselves and so there has always been albums full of photos in the cupboards. The other week my parents dug them out and we all stood in the kitchen reminiscing, laughing and teasing each other about the funny faces we were pulling in the shots.

I forget that other people don't take as many photographs. I forget that other people don't put their photos into albums.

Last night I sat down expecting to see heaps of embarrassing photos of Ray when in fact there was only a handful that he featured in. One when he was about twelve - such a skinny blonde thing, and always in a baseball cap. The others from his uncles wedding when he was wearing make-up to cover up a black eye from a fight the night before. He assures me the fight had not been his or his uncle's fault but do you think I beleive him? Do I heck! ;) And finally some photos of him with his cousin proudly holding up some fish they'd caught.

He doesn't say it but I know he feels sad that there aren't more photos of him. That my endless albums worth of childhood photos remind him that his life was different to mine. It made me think about my own childhood.

Ray has always said he loves visiting my family because our house is a home, that everyone can say and do what they like - we're all a bunch of idiots who don't care, basically. I didn't realise just how fun and relaxed and filled with love my family home was and is. I went through some tough times with my family in my late-teen years but looking at us now and how we were before the bad times I wonder how it ever happened, how they could be the same parents who hurt me so much. Because they're not like that anymore. They weren't before and they're not now.

I guess moving out of home has made me look at my family and my family life in a new light, from a different angle. I had a wonderfully happy childhood, no matter how bad it got after puberty hit, the childhood was fun. And in between the bad times the good times were always so good. It's nice to be able to appreciate the good parts of life. I spent so long concentrating on the negative that I forgot to see that there was some damn good times mixed in there too.

Basically: my family rule! ;)

Labels: childhood, daddy, family, in-laws, love, mammy, photos

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