Updated: Aug 20, 2020
They are here, they are gone. A fleeting moment and than just as fast as it came, it vanished.
Like the peonies that bloomed yesterday, but wilted this evening.
Like the falling leaves on a crisp autumn morning.
Like that glimpse of your 3 year old's smirk that got less child like with each passing year.
Like the wide eyed wonder of your daughters pure joy because you are a loving and engaged family that makes her feel safe, loved and overjoyed.
Like that incredible coffee stout I had at a Boston brewery several years ago.
Moments aren't meant to last...
but if you're lucky, you can turn an intangible memory into a printed moment stuck in time.
I photographed a wedding a couple weeks ago and I love every moment I captured, I loved every photo - EVERY. SINGLE. PHOTO.
I noticed, What I really loved was how those moment photos made me feel.
The twirling little girl, the adorable stare of a little boy, the way the bride laughed whole heartily at a funny the groom made, the tender moment of a touch or a kiss that they didn't know I was so closely capturing. The sheer comfort in your mom or dad's arms.
It is crazy really with my business, because I recall in specific ways when I captured an image I truly love what lead up to the moment, maybe a dad and his son in a tender embrace. Moments later that same son having his dad bounce him off a seesaw. I remember and see everything in my head as I saw it that day and it is overwhelmingly special.
I don't know, I can not put into writing the way these little moments make me feel.
part of something.
These moments tell the whole story of the day, without these photos documented...of the twirling little girl of the tender hug or a jump for excitement, It would be ephemeral, that saddens me and I guess I just am very glad that I am able to capture the beauty of a love story for memories to have and to hold.
I am adding photos of some of my favorite moments...I am glad they are here to stay.
I also found this incredible poem by Elizabeth Bishop that I think says a little or a lot about This subject and I want to share it:
The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster. —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.