These days
I have a glut of photos.
I take ten in a row
To capture one moment.
Whole sections of my photo library
Repeated images,
Like the flip books
We made in grade school.
Bands of ocean
Of trees
Of sunsets
Blue
Green
Orange
As I scroll back through time.
I take photos with abandon
As I hope for one good one
Playing with framing
And focus
Loving the luxury of digital storage.
Not so for my parents
Who had to dole out photos
Like desserts
Special
More sparing, more judicious in the click of the shutter.
Still
We would sometimes sit in the dark
Watching the slide shows
of our most recent vacations
Projected life size on the wall
And suddenly
Slide after slide
Of seagulls
Of beach
Of sunsets.
In our search for the good shot
We manage to capture the joy
The importance of a moment.
Looking at fifteen photos of my sons in the snow
I know I was thinking
“This matters.”
It is our human impulse to use art
to capture
Our love
Our gratitude
Our grief.
When I look at my pictures
I can sense that swell of heart
That accompanied the repetitions.
I may have seven pictures of a snail
But what I also have
Is my joy
Made visible.
