Photographs lie.

Photographs lie; I don't trust them. I flipped through a family album with a young girl I'm working with at the Sharewood Clinic. Her family looked so peaceful and full of bliss: vacations in Aspen, weddings in New York City, mom and dad holding hands on the front porch, the girl posing in Disneyland. It's hard to believe what she and her family have actually gone through together: the arguments, the custody battles, the bankrupsy claims, the dad in and out of rehab, the girl running away in middle of the snowy night in January. Yet, she keeps this album of apple-pie happy pictures. She keeps these pictures of the family perfectly content underneath her bed at the half-way home. No bitterness, no regrets, just pictures of all-American smiles. We all have to believe in something. Sometimes we need to hold on to sweet memories made of nothing at all.