SnapShot

Return to school photos. Yes those. We all do them – we all stand our little cherubs up against a backdrop – whether it be a door or wall where previous photos have been shared, so we can compare the height, the weight, the physical changes obvious to previous images. We move out of the way the empty milk bottles, or the basket of ironing, the pile of shoes or the overflowing bin so for that captured moment, life is framed just-so. A perfect picture. Carefully curated images to be shared on Facebook (or Smugbook as my friend calls it), Instagram or indeed any other social media platform I have no idea about (I am still gutted Friends Reunited is no more).

We coo over our friend’s kids who have grown up just that little bit taller. We sigh as we remember the babies they once were. We zoom in to check how our virtual friends are faring. There is a parental connection just for a week around the beginning of September, where thousands of kids reluctantly pose for their proud parents – from cute keen 5 year olds just starting out, eager to please; to the sulky teens, faces barely visible through their fringes, eyes rolled to the sky, inwardly wishing you would just shut up and go away. Those who don’t have kids must get really fed up as they scroll through endless feeds of school uniforms paraded like badges of honour. Look. We made it. Hair brushed and shoes sparkling ready for the new term. A moment captured for yet another memory to be regurgitated later on down the line. I did it too – it has become mandatory, a ritual, a duty.

The moment before our own obligatory photo was taken, mind, was chaos. Running particularly late, as we had forgotten how to get up early, there was the last minute panic to find masks, fill water bottles, pack bags, check emails, eat breakfast, clean up dog poo, brush teeth and when we finally made it outdoors to the spot we needed, we had to wait until the sunlight was just-so, and the dog had finished licking her own privates in full view, before I got the ‘perfect shot’. Within an instant, the moment had passed, and with the bagged snapshot in tow, we rushed into the car and drove hell-for-leather to the school gates and carried on our day as we went our separate ways.

What does that image represent? At first glance you see two rather smart looking boys well into their teens now, standing tall and handsome in their suits, a brotherly hug, somewhat cheeky smiles – but a picture of ‘perfection’, how I wanted them to look on Smugbook . What you don’t see is the dog out of shot still busy at it; the un-mowed lawn, the weeds in the flower-pots (unless you REALLY zoom in, but who does that?) and my for ever increasing credit card bill. And it got me thinking. Behind these uniformed smiles are stories, secrets, desires, dreams, woes and wants, hidden troubles, defiance, abuse, bruises, bullying. Scrolling through feeds you see what you are presented to see. Shiny and new. I jest as I say I shoved my washing basket out of shot and stopped the dog licking herself; but there will be kids who would have pulled their sleeves down a little bit over their wrists to hide scars, or kept headphones in all night to silence the shouting. Kids who have learnt to live with heartache and loss or have been told loved ones are dying. Do their smiles show it? If you zoom in do you spot the sadness in their eyes, see the pain, the dark shadows under their eyes as they worry and wonder? We see beautifully packaged perfection, a created moment that really doesn’t tell the complete story. Minutes before and minutes after, life just goes on, warts and all. The photos that smatter social media, whether the kids, new puppies or cheeky fluffy kittens are just a tiny, weeny little peak into people’s lives and don’t ever tell the full narrative.

The same day my two were tutting and grumbling about having their photos done, less than 20 miles away in a sleepy suburb of a rural town here in the UK, a local school-boy, around the same age as my two, became the victim of a gun shot fired by a fellow pupil on the way to his first day back at school. It made the national news and I heard it as I drove home after running a few errands. As I write this, a day or so on, details are sketchy; the victim is in a critical condition in intensive care and police have arrested a suspect. Both boys are 15. Perhaps the victim had stood, minutes earlier, protesting about the early morning, moaning at his mum to get on with it as she flattened his hair and tried to tuck his shirt in to get the ideal image so she could proudly share on social media later that day. The picture may have been perfect, a sunny smile, a boy full of dreams, a new beginning for him especially after so, so long in Lockdown. I am hoping for his family’s sake that they will cherish whatever image they managed to get. Fast-forward a little - in a split-second moment, lives are ruined forever. Who knew? Who could plan for that? Would you have guessed by looking at any former back-to-school photos of the culprit, that the future-him was going to be arrested for attempted murder, that he was actually capable of such a cruel pre-meditated act?

So, what is the point I am trying to make? That you can’t summarise life in snapshot? That a photo doesn’t really tell the whole story, that you can’t judge a book by its cover and all of the other regurgitated adages and questionable quotes I could come up with? Who knows what life’s challenges will bring? I know for me, someone who has struggled with the concept of general anxiety and irrational fear, that I have felt very humbled by a couple of life events recently – the attack on the 15 year old boy hit home with me, probably as I have sons around the same age - as did the news that a good friend of mine will probably not live long enough now to see his own kid’s back-to-school-photos next year. And it is both sobering and life-affirming and it stops you in your tracks. Cherish the snapshots, curated or not, and remember not everything may be as perfect as first appears.

© The Real Tilly Fairfax