I saw a photo of myself yesterday at my parent’s house.  It was taken in the later part of October.  It is a picture of me holding Jordan and Madelynn without Shawn anywhere near; a photo of just the three of us.  My new family. 

I stared at myself.  I looked hollow.  I looked nice, but hollow.  My hair was washed, my makeup was smoothly brushed on, my eyes were bright, my cheeks were flushed with color; evidence that blood still runs through me.      

Yet, I looked different.  Have I aged?  Have I grown? Have I changed?

Is it possible to have the inside of you disappear?  Leaving the outer shell to exist and make an appearance for you?  I am definitely in that photograph and yet I am definitely not there at all.  Is this proof that we have a soul?  Is it confirmation that the body is combined with a spirit? 

I think maybe I have stumbled upon some sort of verification that there is indeed more to a person than what is just on the outside.  My spirit is real.  My spirit has been hollowed.  I can feel it.  But, more than that, I can see it in the photos.  My question then becomes, “did I need proof”?  I think I liked life better when I could live by my beliefs rather than by my experiences.  I used to believe I had a soul.  I liked it that way.  No proof needed.  Now, I know I have soul.  I have experienced the depth of it in a way that would never be considered easy.  I have proof for something I didn’t even consider questioning. 

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