Bunnies and Bubbles
Take a kid and a bubble blower and you’ve got photo gold. I didn’t even come up with the idea. My little niece rolled in for Easter dinner clomping around in her big purple boots with bubbles in hand. I immediately left to grab my camera. Why can’t I just stand there and enjoy the moment? My obsession strikes. I’m consumed with capturing the moments of my life and the people in my life. I’m focused on remembering and terribly afraid of forgetting, so with me goes my camera. Everywhere. Some days I make the conscious effort to sit, relax and soak it in. It’s an effort. Always thinking in pictures it kills me to see little moments coming together and find I’m without my camera. The worst is when I’m driving and the smallest event passes, a fleeting moment, and I wish my eyes had cameras. Maybe someday. Don’t steal my idea. It’s genius.
I bet my desire to collect the moments of my life through photos stems from my grandmother’s photo albums. Once a year we’d visit her in Florida and every time at least one afternoon was spent flipping the pages of the, I think, 20 photo albums she so carefully curated. Complete with an index of dates, locations and names, the albums my grandma Jane compiled covered four generations of lives. Photos come easily now with everyone carrying a digital camera or iPhone, but we’ve lost the magic of the printed photo. Just once a year I’d have an afternoon to spend with these photos, each time looking at them with an adjusted perspective. My grandma has truly been our family’s “documentarian” and I can only hope that someday I can take those reigns. I spend hours pouring over the photos I shoot, editing them just so, organizing them and finally sending these pictures by email or snail mail so that people can have these for their own albums. Sharing my photos gives me the greatest satisfaction. It’s my little contribution to the bigger picture.