Today one of my brothers is on a plane to Korea.
He is moving there to teach English.
This past weekend, we had a going away party for him.
I didn't get a single photo of us together.
At the party, both of my parents were there.
And both of my brothers.
My parents divorced when I was 13, and I had plans for weeks to get one last family photo of the five of us together since we would all be at the event.
We all live in different areas, and with one of us moving out of the country, I knew this was my shot.
And I blew it.
When I realized that my plans didn't come together like I had imagined, I spent an entire afternoon crying.
And now I'm not sure when I will have a chance like that again.
A brief chance.
And it's gone.
Thankfully, while I still have a good memory, I can look back at these photos and remember what the entire weekend was like.
A weekend full of brief moments with family and friends.
Brief moments that mean so much to me.
The last photo was taken seconds after telling Taylor, "We'll be leaving the park in just a minute."
The look of panic.
Knowing her time left to play was brief.
Her little mind racing to think of all the things she wanted to do before we left.
I did the same thing this weekend.
Panicked as the baby started crying at the going away party; signaling that it was time for us to get home and get back to our routine.
None of my plans could take place.
My goodbye to my brother was rushed.
I hope that my memory never fails me.
Because it was such a wonderful weekend.