a roll of film

A year and a half ago, before I left for camp, I bought three disposable cameras to take along. Two of them I filled with the arid heat and deep hearts of the kind and wild people I met that week in the south of France. The third one I picked up over the course of last year, snapping a moment or two forever into the film. As I unpacked boxes this week, I came across the camera and dropped it off at the drugstore to get the pictures developed. What I got back was a handful of imperfect and unposed glimpses of life, but they are reminders of what has been and what memories have made me and that my cup is indeed overflowing with joy.