Friday, January 24, 2014

I don't have a picture, because I have the memory instead.

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.

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?