Life was more of a metaphor before I had a digital camera

When you move there's this funny thing you do, unpacking little things and putting them right back where they were before, even if you don't know exactly what they are or where they should belong. I've put the same old package of pictures on top of my CD stand for three new moves, and I hadn't looked at them in about four years.

Today I patiently pulled the photos apart and I had forgotten that I had also double-exposed them; taken party photos of my new house in Golden, Colorado over a wedding of two of my closest friends in Oklahoma.

The pictures split my stomach, showing me the life I could have had with the freedom and youth of what I chose. I felt like I had swallowed something without chewing it when I saw a photo I had snapped of the meticulous bridal aisle intersected with a photo of my friend passed out on the couch, his tennis shoes rudely pushing at a candelabra and our garage-sale couch a sagging apology to the crisp flow of satin pew decorations.