Aren’t We Lucky?

We spend our days sending each other little pieces of life.

A goofy selfie that made me miss your face. A margarita glowing against a San Antonio sunset that somehow turns into plans for SeaWorld. A picture of Figs and Loki doing something ridiculous. A random chicken sandwich that looked particularly excellent.

The conversation keeps moving, and those little moments are carried away by the current. Knowing myself, I probably won’t ever scroll back far enough to see them again.

So I bought a shared digital picture frame.

It sits just inside the threshold of my home, where I pass by it several times a day. Every time I walk past, it’s quietly showing me little glimpses into the lives of the people I care about.

I love it.

I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see Figs and Loki, Jayden, Gary, Kobe, Theodore, and all the little moments that have already started collecting there. It still amazes me that someone can notice something, share it, and a few moments later it quietly becomes part of my day.

The best part is that the photos don’t have to be extraordinary.

In fact, I hope they aren’t.

Show me your day. Your pets. Your shopping trip. The hot dude or dudette you happened to notice while you were out. A rainy morning. A project you’re proud of. The weird thing you found at the thrift store. The random chicken sandwich that looked too good not to photograph. Something you took a picture of without really knowing why. Those are my favorite kinds of photos.

They’re traces.

One observer quietly saying to another,

“This made me stop.”

I’d love to see it too.

The Frame isn’t an archive.

I already have journals, photographs, and stories that preserve history. The Frame serves a different purpose. It lets the people I care about quietly continue showing up in my day. A little window into whatever they’ve been noticing lately.

Every photo reminds me that, for just a moment, you thought,

“Spyke might appreciate this.”

That simple thought carries more meaning than the photograph itself.

Because if it mattered enough to make you stop… …I’d love to stop there with you.

If you’re part of my life and would like to leave the occasional trace on the Frame, don’t be surprised when I send you an invitation.

I just really miss your face.