I was on a sunrise run this morning, and as I jogged through a stretch of trail in the estuary, The Sun was hanging low on the horizon, fat and orange in the hazy sky.
“I need this as the picture to go with my post,” I thought and pulled my phone out of my arm band snapped a picture and then put my phone back in the band. What I missed, though, was that as I put my phone away, it snapped a different picture (of the inside of my arm band) and used that as my run photo.
I didn’t realize any of this, of course, until I was at home. Home with no commemorative photo from my run, or of the sunrise.
It was a glorious sunrise, even if I don’t have a photo to share.
It’s okay if we don’t Insta Face My Book Space Gram everything, right?
I mean, the run happened. And the sun happened.
(No photo or it didn’t happen?)
All the moments we share are really special moments, or sometimes they’re very ordinary moments.
But the moments we can’t capture, or don’t capture, they aren’t any less rapturous because we didn’t capture them.
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