We were in a rush that day.
We did not want to be late.
We did not want to end up stuck in a long queue at Disneyland.
My child 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.
Then my wife stopped, smiled, and said,
“Wait, let’s take a photo.”
I sighed.
That sigh parents make
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 was not about the pose.
It was about proof.
Proof that we were there.
Together.
Tired.
Sweaty.
Happy.
We often think memories will make themselves.
They do not.
You have to pause for them.
You have to honor them
before they move on without you.
So the next time someone says,
“Wait, let’s take a photo,”
Do not roll your eyes.
Do not rush.
Just take it.