It was my second birthday, my mom thinks. The festivities winding down, I decided it was my turn to record the monumental day for posterity, so I picked up my parents’ camera and took a picture. Except that the lens cap was still on. Someone else snapped a real picture of me at the same time.

It’s my birthday again today, and I’ll probably be taking a picture or two tonight as Danny and I are out to dinner (at The Garlic — love that place!). Not so surprisingly, in my memories, cameras and birthdays are tightly linked. I can’t count how many friends’ birthdays I’ve attended where I’ve whipped out my camera — 35 mm, pocket-sized digital, or, now, DSLR — and I remember so many photos and videos from my own birthdays over the years. Singing out the letters of my name (“L-A-U-R-A-U-R-A!”) and trying to push the smoke from my candles away from my face when I was two. Opening gifts at my first family-and-friends birthday party when I was five. Reenacting my enthusiasm for a 101 Dalmations piggy bank — because my dad’s camera hadn’t fired when the enthusiasm was real — when I was eight. Blowing out candles on my birthday cake with a (horrible) hand-drawn (by me) horse on it when I was 13. In a dog pile with all my best girls at my Sweet 16 sleepover. Walking in to the surprise party my friends threw for my last teenaged birthday when I turned 19. Posing with Danny in front of Cinderella’s castle while a stranger snapped a picture at Disney, just a week before we got married, when I was 24.

And then there was my 20th birthday. There were no pictures: It was my first date with Danny. We went to the beach, where the wind sandblasted us back into his truck. We went to a park, where the glaring streetlights made for a pretty unpleasant atmosphere. We ended up at another park, where the lightbulbs burned out one by one and we huddled on a bench as the temperature dropped. It was slightly more romantic than it sounds. And, for once, I’m kind of glad I don’t have a picture. I remember it just as I saw it — without any on-camera flash to ruin the mood.

But I’m so thankful for the pictures, the memories. And I can’t wait to make more. Like this one. Except, I’ll be able to share my future pictures in full instead of having to take a super-closeup picture of those pictures, because in my future pictures I won’t be wearing nothing but a diaper, ruffled socks and dress shoes. But here’s to birthdays and all their memories, no matter how much censoring they may require.
 ~ Laura