We are soaked up with longing in front of such moments, longing for moments like this, when we were so small that we fitted entirely on a lap, longing for moments that we don't even remember.
In every house there are memories, old or new, chests filled with photos or just one or another remaining in plain sight, in one or another corner of the house.
But not all of us kept so sharp memories of when we were little, perhaps because at that time the machines haven't reached the sharpening they have now, perhaps because there wasn't an handy photographer to record the moment or simply because no one thought about it at all.
There was always someone nearby with a machine that, in one way or another, better or worse, recorded a few moments that today, with more or less quality, are memories. Smithereens of who we were and we are persisting in time, beyond oblivion.
How would we remember our mother, father or grandparents lap, now that we can't fit in, if it weren't the photos that prevail in time and space, that resist through the years, to any wrinkle or gray hair?
Today I would be tiny again, cuddling up in any lap in which I could fit, forgetting the world, but never losing the opportunity to register the moment and remember it today as I remember this image from a photoshoot we did with little António.
We know that cramps didn't gave him rest, but we know even better that the love and affection of this parents spoke much louder and perhaps, many years from now, António will be able to scour the chest of memories and remember this moment.
And how I envy him for not having a picture like so, in the lap of my parents!
More moments like this? Yes, please!