I love taking pictures.
Instagram, Facebook, blogging, scrap booking, journaling, and pretty much
any way I can document and preserve the precious moments of life. I love looking
back on photos of my past and remembering the beauty of moments that might have
otherwise been forgotten. I love being
able to share these moments with friends and family with the press of a button.
So, picture taking? All for
it. But the other day something
happened that put all this into perspective.
January 20, 2014. It
was Martin Luther King Day, and my two little girls and I were at the park, basking
in the balmy 80 degree Austin weather. I
was sitting with some friends on the picnic blankets, chatting and watching the
kids run around in the fields. A line of
children was forming in front of one dad who was pitching to a batter barely taller tan the racket he was gripping. Kids who had never been introduced chased each other and wrestled playfully in the grass,
careful to sidestep the very small children trying to join in the excitement. Footballs
flying, sun shining, it was a happy picture of freedom, fun, and memories in
the making.
My interest waned from the mommy-conversation for a moment
as I scanned the field for my two little girls.
There they were, across the field. Paisley, in her blonde
pig tails and pink cowgirl boots, with already grass-stained knees, marched
with some unknown purpose across the field.
In her almost 3-year-old mind, there is always some adventure to be had
and some quest to conquer. Little one-year-old
Afton wandered bravely through the field of people big and small as if in
search of something. Moments after I
spotted them, Afton spotted Paisley and began waddling excitedly toward
her. I watched as Paisley marched on,
unaware of her tiny pursuer, who ran after her reaching out for her repeatedly, only to miss her by a hair.
My mommy heart was captured.
What would happen? Would Afton lose her balance as she happily
lunged for her beloved sister? Would
hopeful Afton’s wide eyes fill with tears when her sister noticed her and left
her to play with her bigger friends? Or would Paisley simply march on and leave
Afton in her dust, never knowing she was there?
Afton must have called out for Paisley amidst all the happy
noise, because just as I thought Afton was ready to give up, Paisley
turned. (The thought entered my mind, “Where’s
my camera?”). Instead of sending her
away, Paisley bent down slightly, and took Afton’s small hand, securing it in
hers. She slowly began to walk beside Afton,
leading her through the chasers and the kite flyers, the wrestlers and the
ball-players. She led Afton gently up her favorite hill, which she knows Afton could spend hours conquering triumphantly time and time again. She then paused to observe where Afton wanted to go, giving her a
chance to lead.
My mommy heart swelled to bursting as I watched the love
between sisters and soaked in this perfect, sweet moment. I wished I could capture this innocent expression of kindness and friendship between sisters and keep it forever.
This morning, as I revisited the experience in my mind, I found
myself wishing I had a picture to immortalize this moment. I had taken so many other cute pictures at
the park that day, but no moment had been as special as this. And that’s when it occurred to me. Maybe no moment was quite as special because I didn't have my camera. I wasn't fumbling in my purse or adjusting
settings. I wasn't trying to get the
right angle or background. I was just
sitting, watching, my whole mind and heart caught up in this tender
moment.
Now, I don't mean to say there aren't moments I'm eternally grateful that I have a camera. Some of the photos I have are priceless treasures that I wouldn't trade for anything. And I hope in years to come these photos will immortalize our little family and serve as links between us and future generations. But this time, I'm happy to write it all out. This time, I'm grateful I didn't sacrifice a second of it in exchange for a single snapshot.
This time, I’m grateful to say, I don’t have a photo to go with this post. I don’t have a picture, because I have the memory instead.
Now, I don't mean to say there aren't moments I'm eternally grateful that I have a camera. Some of the photos I have are priceless treasures that I wouldn't trade for anything. And I hope in years to come these photos will immortalize our little family and serve as links between us and future generations. But this time, I'm happy to write it all out. This time, I'm grateful I didn't sacrifice a second of it in exchange for a single snapshot.
This time, I’m grateful to say, I don’t have a photo to go with this post. I don’t have a picture, because I have the memory instead.
Just for fun, here's one from earlier this week that I think illustrates the relationship between these two pretty well. Totally candid shot. What more could a mom ask for? |