We document our joys.

Sometimes we write about them and tuck the words away on a hard drive or in a notebook. Sometimes we capture them with a camera. Then, often years later and by happy accident, we stumble across them again and the original joy flashes back to life.

If we are lucky and disciplined, we begin this habit early and repeat it hundreds or even thousands of times across a lifetime.

Here is my random thought:

At the exact instant of a camera flash, there may also be a flash of future memory.

Imagine standing in the middle of your parents’ 50th anniversary celebration. The dog is barking, children are squabbling over toys, dishes need serving, more dishes need clearing. You’re trying to stay present but the chaos keeps pulling you away. Then someone lifts a camera.

A spontaneous pose is captured. The flash blooms and slowly fades across the cones of your retina.

And perhaps, in that single microsecond, you are quietly gifted with a preview: the knowledge of how many times in the decades ahead you will return to this one frozen moment and feel a quiet surge of joy.

I like that thought.