part of me thinks that photos are not suppose to exist. i just picked one up, a picture of me eleven years ago almost to the month, when i was 8 years old and i just stared at it, at me. i am so innocent. i know nothing. i look at me in that summer dress and i know that little me would not know the me standing in my room in this sundress. in this frozen moment of time, i do not know that in four years i will meet some of the people who will be so vital to shaping who i am today. i do not know that in 7 years i will meet a woman who i am sure is my soulmate and then in 10 years i will spend the summer in Panama and shift so much, i am hardly recognizable. i do not know that in 10 years i will meet another woman, welcome her into my home from a land so unlike but yet so similar to my own and discover she too in many ways is my soulmate. and then a year later, i will meet yet another woman who will enter my life, change it and become one of the closest friends i have ever met. it is so strange to look at this picture and think that emily, beka, emmaray, iida, katie, ellen, everyone was living their lives in that exact moment and yet we would not meet each other, would not know the other existed for a certain number of years. so is that destiny? that we can exist separately for so many years only to be joined together? were those choices the universe made or ones we did? photos capture so many questions on a piece of paper. how is that even possible?