Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.
I didn’t have my coffee yet when I read that prompt above so I ended up posting about the Chocolate Hills of Bohol instead. That, and my mind was not exactly on writing a prompt at the moment, but writing chapter 25 of my novel and not losing the momentum after reading a snarky-sounding reply on an innocent comment I made last night (that is bugging me at the moment).
Oh, and the many thoughts that are coming to me about Ridley Scott’s movie Prometheus, which I saw for the first time last night – I’m so sorry I listened to the critics slamming it as really bad, but I actually liked it. Greek mythology, DNA, Christian themes again and again, and aliens emerging from the surrogate womb? Well, blow me – deep inner thoughts were sure to follow by the time I finished watching it at 3 am.
So anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, write a story about the first picture I come across – me.
So here’s the pic:
And here’s the story:
The only story to go with this picture is that it was taken last week, during my birthday dinner. The little guy and I are about to blow out the candles and I decided to take a selfie. The little guy never really did start smiling till this year. Before that, he seemed to just stare at the camera or somewhere else, and not do anything – it broke my heart each time because to me, he seemed lost.
This year, he’s learned to smile for the camera and he likes to feel my teeth with his fingers when we do our usual selfie shots around town. He’s more engaging now and of all the presents that day – and every day for that matter – his smile is my favorite of all.