Before I Knew.

Photographs

There is a hallway in my grandparents home that I love. Year after year I stand in that hallway. Every Christmas, Thanksgiving, summer visit, even directly following my grandmother’s funeral, I stood there. Staring. It is lined on both sides with ceiling to floor  photographs. Still images that captured a moment in time. Some, a century old. Others, decades. In most of the older ones, I have no idea who these people are. Pictures of my grandmother on her wedding day. Pictures of her with a beautiful pregnant belly. Snapshots of my grandfather, strong and handsome. Pictures of my mother and her three siblings when they were babies, teens, and on into their adult lives. I’m up there, along with my brother, my cousins, my family.  Most hung nicely, others pinned to the wall with a thumb tack. I love this hallway. It makes me feel close to my grandmother, who, like me, must have LOVED photographs. Each one telling such a fantastic story of who these people are, a glimpse into their lives. I look at them and memories of the exact day they were taken come flooding back to me. They are magic.

This is a photo I snapped one evening at my childhood home in Oklahoma. The place where I was brought home from the hospital and the place where my family still resides. I love this too. The second I look at it, I remember this windy evening when we were all together. Outside in the wide open space. Kids were running wild, ribs were on the grill (I can even smell them now), the sun was setting... It was beautiful. I had to get my camera. I also think about dragging that heavy bench out to the field and hearing my mother say, “Maxi, don’t lift that thing!” “Goodness! We don’t need that!” But I hauled it out there anyway. I could see in my mind the way I wanted this photo to look. The kids were all grumbling at me the way they do when I come at them with that camera lens. Papa wouldn’t put that silly white styrofoam cup down no matter how many times I asked him to. My son, Cash with that darn sword! I hollered and shot out orders that nobody listened to. Oh well, when I look back at this image in ten years, those are the parts I will love the best. That infamous white cup and the fact that my son truly thinks he is the Red Power Ranger.  

I know one thing for sure. I will have a hallway in my house where I hope my great grandchildren will stand. I will cover the walls with photographs, top to bottom. Hopefully they will be able to see all of the amazing memories (big and small), that we were making. Records of the time that was flying by before our very eyes. Images that tell our story. It doesn’t matter if your skills aren’t perfect, or you’re just learning to use your camera, TAKE THE PICTURE. You see, more important than the correct ISO, aperture, or shutter speed, is that frozen moment. The time of your life right then, right there. Things change so rapidly.  Children grow up. People move on. Grandparents pass. So, the biggest mistake you can make with your camera is not taking the photo at all.