Waving goodbye to my eldest daughter Allison, son-in-law Drew, their friend Kate and the two huskies hunkered down in the back of their Toyota Rav, an osprey glides over Elmira Pond.
My wave turns to two-handed gestures pointing skyward toward the pond. We had waited for the osprey to show all weekend. Some moments come at the wrong time--the kids pull out onto the highway and are gone; I stand on the front porch without a camera; and the obnoxious red-winged blackbird routs the osprey.
The moment passes, taking with it all the other moments of an exceptional weekend: the conversations and laughter, the intermittent birding, the multiple games of Catan, the jokes about summer in the Pacific Northwest as we stoked the fire, the impromptu walk around the Elmira Schoolhouse, the spray of wildflowers across the pastures, the peach flirtinis, the continuing box of chocolates, the mist and rain, acclimating horses to dogs and dogs to horses, the trip to the Bonner Mall theater to see Tom Cruise in 3-D, the steak and twice baked potatoes followed by more Catan, the breakfast at Samuels and the last Catan game.
And I don't have a single photo.
Photo-less moments are among my favorite. We're such a crazed culture snapping selfies and moments as if we were living lives narrated by Howard Cossell. It's one thing to photo-document moments of country living on a northern Idaho peat bog to share across place and space, but when the moments of sharing time with others arrives, I want to live in the moment, not the documentation of it.
When I take photos, I'm not fully vested in experiencing the moment. I realized this when I tried to video-record my daughter Allison dancing live at a cabaret show in Missoula this past April. Never before had I tried to record my daughter whose dancing career has spanned 22 years. I always watched with full attention. When I tried to record, I felt like I wasn't really there, so I tucked my camera-phone back in my purse.
Some days are like that on Elmira Pond, too. Some days, I just leave the camera upstairs and sip my coffee and let life unfold without a script or record of the moment passing. I simply live it, sip by sip.
I agree with you completely, Charli. Sometimes the best images are those we hold on to with our mind, embracing with our heart forevermore. And just as you did here, we paint a vivid picture of the moment in words for others to see, as we choose.
ReplyDeleteThose are the best images, Ruthi--the ones embraced with our heart!
DeleteI never thought about it like that...but I too love those photo-less moments. I've had several this weekend.
ReplyDeleteExperience the life, Dawn when you get those moments!
DeleteGood that you had those moments this weekend! Making memories doesn't always involve pixels. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI can't get over how much I love those last two sentences. Truly beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Lori. It sounds like I'm always drinking coffee...but truly it's those moments I'm sipping.
DeleteMoments like that can be held in out hearts, just like loved ones are. We can take those moments out and hole them in our hands and look at them again and again, and then put them right back in our heart where they belong.
ReplyDeleteThat's a beautiful way to put it, Susie. And our hearts make for good lockets!
DeleteI think some moments are best when focusing on the experience. I think it helps to challenge the imagination when reading photo-less. I took my grandsons to the zoo this weekend. It wasn't until after we were leaving that I realized I didn't take as many pictures as I usually do. Instead I was too busy watching their little faces light up. It sounds like you built many memories without the worry of photos this weekend. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteAw, that's wonderful to watch their faces light up. I always like watching my daughter's face when she dances. It's those moments that matter. And yes, since I write fiction, I better get used to words without photos, too or else I'll be writing fiction for 3-year olds! :-)
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