You know how when you have to brake really hard and instinctively your right arm shoots over to the passenger seat to protect the air over there? Yeah, well my hand reaches over to keep my camera from tumbling to the floor. Because it's always with me. To shoot pictures at a stoplight, in my rear view mirror if Georgia is being exceptionally adorable, out the window, of myself, of a random flower bed that I'd like to remember to try and reproduce, of a cool sky, of some crazy weirdo next to me (okay--I've never done that......I should though), or whatever. It's always there.
I grew up with a mom that would've scaled Niagara Falls or the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde while on family vacations if she'd been allowed to, to get a good picture. And as much as we frequently acted irritated that she made us try and pet a mountain goat in Glacier National Park so she could get a good shot, or we had to stand in front of a bunch of bats flying out of Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico while she shot a roll of film, or she wanted us to get out of our car on the freeway in San Diego to take a picture in front of the bougainvillea that grew along the cement walls, there is nothing like looking through all of our old family photo albums and laughing at the memories. I always find myself in the spare room at my parents house whenever I'm home flipping through a few of the books.....and now I can show Georgia.
I'm that mom now. I've inherited this amazing quality from her. And it's something I believe to be invaluable in cementing a family legacy, memories, traditions, and that all around good-feeling that looking back at the great times that you've all shared brings. They help some of the difficult days fade away a bit and become the distant, fuzzy thoughts you want them to be.
So, I bring my camera everywhere. Because you never know when something spectacular is going to happen that you want to weave into the fiber of who you are and who your family is. When I make my photo albums at the end of the year the pages that hold summer happenings always dominate the book. Summer is ripe with events that need to be memorialized. And this weekend......we kicked summer off at the beach........with friends........and my camera.
The obvious question here is, "Why the luggage?" The obvious answer is, "A three year old and all day at the beach."
The inevitable, "Throwing sand is really not cool," discussion. Take ten.
I love how busy little girls are at the beach. They have a lot to accomplish. Don't get in their way.
One day, I'm sure of it, I'll get a normal picture of Georgia.
True to form--the moms always get stuck finishing the sand-castles. Well.....Rachel did. I just took pictures.
Georgia and Fiona told me they were sure there was buried treasure under here. Get closer girls. Closer.
So here's my challenge to you. Take a lot of pictures this summer. Like an obscene amount. Dump them onto your computer at the end of each day. Take ten minutes and quick delete any you don't love on first glance. But capture those moments. Those little ones that you'll vaguely remember if you don't have a picture of them. I promise you, your kids will love those pictures......each and every one of them.....when they're four and thirty four. Even those things that seem insignificant at the time, like adorable sand-covered three year old feet that track remnants of a fantastically satisfying day into your car......take a picture of them.
Happy day. Happy beginning of summer.