We were in a rush that day.
Didn’t want to be late and end up in a long queue for Disneyland.
My son was bouncing with excitement, clutching his Lightning McQueen like a VIP pass.
I, on the other hand, was mentally counting tickets, snacks, strollers, and sanity.
“Come on, we’ll miss the parade,” I said.
But my wife stopped, smiled, and said, “Wait, let’s take a photo.”
I sighed. That kind of sigh parents do when they think time is more important than memory.
Still, I stood beside them. Forced a quick smile. One click. Done.
Hours later, as the day unfolded.
The laughter. The rides. The slurpee smudges.
That photo became my favorite from the trip.
Not the castle shot. Not the fireworks.
Just that imperfect, rushed photo before the fun even began.
Because it wasn’t about the pose. It was about proof.
Proof that we were there. Together. Tired, sweaty, but happy.
We often think memories will make themselves, but they don’t.
You have to pause for them.
To freeze the moment before it moves on without you.
So next time someone says, “Wait, let’s take a photo,” don’t roll your eyes.
Don’t rush. Just take it.