“The young cannot be blamed for not knowing what it’s like to be old, but the old is guilty of forgetting what it’s like to be young”
Or something of the sort. Guess where the quote came from, for bragging rights.
Innocence. I can’t help but notice how little children emanate their glow of youthful innocence whenever they have fun.
They are honest and frank. They do not deviously insult nor flatter. They speak their minds and express their honest opinion on anything, without fear of being judged.
Kids don’t wear a mask on their faces. They cry when they are sad, and laugh when they are happy. They don’t pretend to be excited when they’re not, and when they do become excited, they honestly are.
When they do things to make you happy, you know they’re not doing them because they had to. They do them because they want to. And seing your happy face, in turn, makes them happy as well. And that is enough for everyone, both you and them.
I long for the same youthful innocence, for I feel like it has left me for quite some time.
They are pure, untainted, and clear. And if we look carefully, we can actually see ourselves in their eyes. We see what they see. And maybe if we learn to look at ourselves through children’s eyes, life wouldn’t be as complicated as it has been.
I wish I have a child’s pure and untainted eyes.
I have a big family: my dad is fifth of twelve and my mom eighth of nine. And each of my uncles and aunts have many children of their own, resulting in my having more than a hundred immediate cousins. A certain portion of those cousins, especially on my mother’s side, already have families of their own. Their children are mostly born while I was away in the States, and it’s very unfortunate that I have problems even remembering their names. Maybe I haven’t spent enough time with them, or maybe I’ve grown too old to be playing with kids on a regular basis. I don’t know. But I do know that it’s imperative that I should make a meaningful connection with them, because distant or not, they’re my relatives and I should at least be on recognizable terms with them.
So here are some photos I took of these children during family gatherings, in hopes of remembering who is who, although I have yet to know everybody’s name. I shall need the help of my fellow family members to help me remember the names of these children of cousins.
This is Amer Zafran, the youngest son of my cousin Shaza Rina. In the second picture, he’s held by his uncle (my cousin) Shazli.
The youngest son of my cousin Umi Zuraifah. I need to recall his name.
The youngest son of my cousin Emma Zuhaimi. I need to recall his name as well.
With his older brother Nabil.
My cousin Adila’s children… plus some of her sister Umi’s as well. In the last picture, you can tell who is whose sibling and who is not, as the sibling resemblance for both families is quite clear.
I have now been known as the family’s photography enthusiast, since I tend to lug around my camera to every family gathering and of course been snapping away (flash or no flash) photos of family members. I think, once I have enough, or maybe even sooner, I would have these pictures in a family blog I intend to keep updating so that everyone in my immense family can enjoy my family photos.
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P/S: I still regret not knowing the names of each of the children in the photos. I shall update this post with the children’s names as I learn and commit them to memory.
