You know what he never does for me? Pose sweetly like this. He’s wary of the camera. Getting old enough now to tell me to put it away. Was it luck that allowed me to capture this fleeting moment? Or that I’m always prepared, always with the camera near and ready to capture those moments when opportunity strikes. I’d like to think it’s a combination of both.
On this morning, a lazy Sunday, I wanted to remember him thoughtful and reserved during a brief interlude of playing the game he called school. And I wanted to remember his hair in its constant disheveled state because his mother can’t be bothered to break out a comb. Neatly coiffed hair is a sure sign he’s been visiting the grandparents.
And even though he might get tired sometimes of the pictures (and I do put it away when he asks), I am reminded of something Tracey Clark wrote in Elevate the Everyday.
Photographs are the only history we have besides our memories and our stories, and it just reminds me that I will never regret a single picture I ever take. In fact, I will only celebrate them more.
I can barely remember what I ate for lunch two days ago. Memories and recollections fade quickly. Time passes quickly. Without the photographs to preserve these moments that make up his life, how will either of us remember?
So I’ll continue to snap away, capturing as many little moments and details as I can. Learning every day how to make it more fun for him so that he starts wanting to play along.
