My parents can attest to this - starting at a young age, I had quite a passion for taking pictures. Sadly, no not cool artsy pictures. Just smiley, posed pictures with my friends and family. I had probably filled 10 photo albums by the time I completed college. And then I continued to create one every calendar year from there on out. When I first met my Ex, I put together an album for him of our first year together. (I made sure to include that along with many of the wedding pics in his boxes when I was packing them up, too. See post #59) The months that followed his abrupt departure kind of went dark. Granted it was in the middle of winter, so even the happiest of people were suffering from seasonal affective disorder at that time. But for me personally, I didn't have the interest or will power to document my life. I wasn't ashamed of my life in any way, it just felt noticeably incomplete. I was empty inside and therefore not capable of documenting so many of those little moments that happened in front of me. I think I missed many photo opportunities with my younger son. That's a sin, right? Well technically no, but still, it was pretty bad. So then we took this trip out to San Diego and within 2 days I'm tan, happy and back to being the photographer. When I returned from the trip, I realized I had taken over 100 pics and I hadn't even counted those from my iPhone! And our family looked good. The 3 of us were smiling in picture after picture. I suddenly felt like I had made up for some lost time. Had I really? Um, no. But it felt good to be returning to something that I had always loved doing. Something that was mine long before I had even met my Ex. I was getting back to me. And capturing it along the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment