The 2016 Instagram trend led me on a journey back to now

A window seat in 2016: A summer sunset illuminates Mt. Rainier on the ground in Washington and the number 3 on the wing tip of a Boeing 737. The number was for then-Seahawks quarterback and Alaska Airlines spokesperson Russell Wilson.

I’ve loved looking back at old photos since I was a kid.

There’s one of my parents on a motorcycle, my dad wearing a sombrero. Showing me, quite clearly, that my parents had a whole other life before me. They were maybe even different people before me.

I always wished I could meet those people. They look so happy and carefree (kid-free 😂) — silly even.

And, that’s the beauty about a trip down memory lane. We typically take photos of the happy times, not the trying times.

No wonder we feel warm and cozy going through the memories.

They’re mostly good. And, if there were some hard bits?

We have some distance from those now, so the pain doesn’t cut quite as deep.

2016 Instagram trend

Canva photo
Me, not getting why everyone’s posting about 2016 on Instagram all of a sudden.

When people started posting photos from 2016 on Instagram this month, I first thought, huh? That’s random.

Then, it clicked. We’re looking back 10 years?

Count. Me. In.  

Scrolling through 2016 on my phone, there were so many amazing places, good times and familiar faces.

Photo after photo, I saw how we were different than we are now. We were younger and lived in Seattle, Washington.

But, I also saw how we’re still the same. Namely, that why we travel is the same.

We (mostly) go by camper van now, but the key themes of our trips today were right there in my camera roll from 2016: nature, family, friends, concerts and breweries.

Family in 2016

Those faces, including mine, in the 2016 photos look so much younger than they do today.

Not that everyone’s still with us. Our Scotties, Monster and Boris, are gone now.

My grandma’s 101st birthday was a can’t-miss moment for the entire family.

My grandma Maple, too. She turned 101 that summer and passed early the next year.

There are photos of her birthday party, which was bigger than Thanksgiving and even Christmas for my family.

Her big day was in late summer, when there were no competing family commitments and before school was back in session. So, everyone was there.

Right after her birthday photos are ones from an all-time favorite destination dating back to childhood: Table Rock Lake in the Missouri Ozarks.

Those photos of me on a slalom ski are significant. It’s the last time I went water skiing, which I hope to fix this year.

Not only that but slaloming was never my thing.

On two skis, as the boat pulls me, I pull back and pop right up. But on one ski, you have to let go of being in control like that.

You crouch down, knees bent to your chest, and lean back in the water. The front of your ski sticks out above the surface. The back’s underwater, tucked against your bum. It’s a tricky position to hold.

Then, you steady your nerves, holler “hit it” and take a deep breath.

Turns out, it wasn’t that I couldn’t slalom ski. It was just that I needed a top-of-the-line vintage Terry Competition ski to do it.

There you are, holding on as the boat drags, drags and drags you some more. You don’t want to lean forward and rush it — you’ll get a face full of water.

You just keep leaning back, the resistance building as the water rips past you. Then, at the exact right moment — not too soon and not too late — you dig your back foot in and stand up.

At least that’s how I remember it.

Slalom skiing is a test of patience. A test of wills. It’s you saying to the boat and the water, I give my control over to you just long enough for me to emerge from the chaotic depths, standing on a wooden plank with a big smile on my face.

And, I had never been able to do it until right then.

If I never get up on a slalom ski again, at least I have this photo, which unfortunately is 2016 resolution.

That glossy wooden plank with the metal fin strapped to my feet? Also significant.

It’s my dad’s Terry Competition ski, designed by professional skier and coach Terry Winter.

It was strictly off-limits to me as a kid. Protected in a cheery yellow zip-up case with black handles. Don’t touch it, and definitely don’t step on it as you walk from the front of the boat to the back.

But, in the summer of 2016, I didn’t just touch it. I adjusted the foot bindings to my size. I took it into the lake. I slipped my feet into the boots, and I skied on it. My dad did, too, that summer.

“One ski. Two generations,” I later posted on an old Instagram account.

Seattle in 2016

Our day-to-day in 2016 happened in Seattle. We kayaked on Lake Union. Paddle boarded on Lake Washington.  

Saw the Mariner’s play, including on Memorial Day when my mom was in town. We were bigwigs that weekend, with box seats overlooking homeplate that I scored from work.

Street hot dogs after an indie rock show in Seattle? It’s a must!

I don’t remember much about the game. But, I remember sharing the experience with my mom — her first box seats. And, I remember Seahawks quarterback (at the time) Russell Wilson. He was right below us in the seats behind homeplate.

My mom and I took in other views. We looked down at Snoqualmie Falls, the waterfall in the Twin Peaks TV show intro, from Salish Lodge. And, out over Seattle from the revolving restaurant in the Space Needle.

Sitting there and seeing the city from that vantage point, I remember thinking, Look at all those buildings. If our rent increases again in a few months when the lease renews, maybe we’ll move.

We didn’t, and our rent did increase, just like every other year.

Another visitor brought VIP tickets to the Bumbershoot music festival, where there were more Seahawks sightings. Macklemore brought several team members onstage during his set. How Seattle is that?

Other friends visited to go to a Guided By Voices concert. I insisted on street hot dogs afterward, resulting in one of the best photos of the entire year.

Travel in 2016

If you have a chance to see your favorite band at Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado, take it.

We also traveled to see friends that year.

One wanted to celebrate his birthday in Santa Rosa, California. We all used to gather there for an annual camping trip and pilgrimage to Russian River Brewing.

We made the repeat destination new again in 2016 by doing something different: A float trip on the actual Russian River in a canoe.  

On another trip, we visited friends in Colorado Springs, Colorado, for the first time. It’s now one of our favorite camper van destinations.

Another first on that trip was a concert at Red Rocks Amphitheatre, which I had wanted to visit for at least 20 years. My first time there was for one of my favorites: Modest Mouse.

The tricky part of memory lane

Smiling faces in your camera roll don’t tell the full story of a year.

In some ways, looking back at 2016 was a bit like staring into my parents’ motorcycle photo as a kid. Part of me wondered, who were those people?

They seem happy. Living in the Pacific Northwest, exploring a cool city and trying new things.

The world seems simple. No vile, fragile-ego U.S. president.

But, that’s the tricky part of a trip down memory lane.

In my camera roll, at least, 2016 is happier and simpler. There’s no question about it.

The photos show the smiles, the views, the highlights.

Moments like these stand out in my 2016 camera roll. We always loved watching the Fremont Bridge, a drawbridge in Seattle over the Lake Union Ship Canal, going up and down.

They don’t show the crushing crowds at Bumbershoot. The traffic on the way to Lake Washington. The low-level anxiety of rent increases and an aging dog (Monster).

They certainly don’t show the Syrian Civil War, Brexit or the Zika virus outbreak in 2016.

Which leaves me at an interesting juncture.

You see, I set out to write a blog about how the 2016 Instagram trend showed me that, today, we travel for the same reasons as we did back then. We still crave nature, breweries, concerts. We still want to share those moments with family and friends.

But, somewhere along the way, I got caught up in the young faces, the easy smiles, the sense that everything was lighter then. And, I felt a quiet sadness realizing those moments are gone.

So much is different now.

We live in another state. We have two different dogs. We’ve lost other family members and friends. We’re living in a different decade of our lives.

And, our faces show the passing of time more and more.

2016 us didn’t know that COVID was coming in 2020 or that we’d buy a camper van and move to Missouri in 2021.

Still, happiness isn’t gone. Joy isn’t gone. It never is. It just doesn’t always look the same. And, it doesn’t always fit neatly into a post or a reel.

So, while I enjoyed scrolling back through 2016 (until the nostalgia started to sting), I think I’ll stay right here.

I know life will keep changing. But, I also know it can’t stay the same. That’s fighting against the very nature of life. The nature of evolution and flow.

So I’m choosing, right now, to be present in 2026. To enjoy the moments before they become memories. To look at the world and know it can be better.

And, of course, to keep filling my life (and camera roll) with more smiles, more joy, more love.

Because the real magic was never in the photos. It was in being there. And, in letting the next moment unfold.