We Don't Know

There is a beautiful photo from my wedding. 

It was taken right before Han was to veil me. My head is turned away from the camera as I am speaking to my youngest niece, who looks like an angel with her flowered updo, her button nose, her pink gown. 

One could assume that I was tenderly interacting with the child. 

I was actually telling her off. 

This "angel" decided, at a very inconvenient time, to come to me wailing, "Everybody is saying I look like Mommy but I don't want to look like Mommy I want to look like myseeeeeeeelf!" 

She really does look like her Mommy. She's a very lucky girl, the ungrateful brat. 

There's another shot floating in the ether of me talking to her with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. She's old enough to know not to have a tantrum about something so silly, especially in public. She sheepishly subsided once she saw the photographer's lens focused on her adorable face. 

I laugh whenever I see that beautiful photo. I also ruefully realize how often me make that mistake—we see a picture, usually on social media, and make all sorts of assumptions about the people therein. Usually how our lives sucks and theirs must be so so great. 

But we don't know. We don't know.  

I'm not wishing unhappiness on the people in those pictures. Rather, those who become unhappy looking at those people should remember that none of us go through life unscathed. 

A family friend, Mrs. A, was ranting about another woman, Mrs. Z. 

"Her child died," I told her. 

She was taken aback, and quickly amended that now she understands, and won't think badly of her again. 

But do we really need to hear that someone else has suffered before we are willing to cut them some slack? I'm guilty (so so guilty) of this as well. 

We can use our imagination to see outside the picture—and remember that none of live lives of roses.