Unnoticed, uncaptured and unframed.

“Do I really need to do this now?” I asked my mother, sinking into my recliner with little enthusiasm. “You should definitely consider giving away some of your old toys,” she replied, her voice a blend of wisdom and a barely-contained 'I told you so.' “But what if I want to play with them?” I shot back, only to be met with an amused look that said, 'Really, now?' from my mom. “I suppose that would be weird,” I conceded, shuffling towards my cupboard like it was the first day of kindergarten.

Diving into the depths of my toy chest, I unearthed relics from my childhood: a beloved ping pong ball (the reason for my attachment still baffles me), a car with an impressive reverse gear, and an assortment of toys that had more dust than use. Then, there it was – the quirky, old, sky-blue picture frame I had fiercely protected from my sister's curious hands(I don’t know why she wanted it either). Our great-grandmother, my co-conspirator, had always helped me hide it in her cupboard. It had remained empty all these years, waiting for a moment significant enough to be framed.

Holding it in my hands, I couldn’t help but remember some of my favorite childhood moments. The frame, now more geriatric than chic, seemed to look at me with an expression that said, "Well, look who's decided to finally find something 'special'." That's when it hit me – every laugh, every game, every innocent squabble with my sister, they were all 'special occasion' worthy. I realized that to truly capture these moments, I would need not one, but a thousand frames.It's funny, isn't it? We wait for big moments to celebrate, while life's simple joys pass by, unnoticed, uncaptured, and certainly unframed.