If you’re like me, when you latch on to a new hobby, you bite down…hard. You’re all consumed with dabbling in your new craft, often at the expense of family and friends. Lately, I can’t seem to pry my camera from my hand. I just keep snapping and snapping and snapping…and I’m sure it’s fairly annoying for my children and husband. And to be quite honest, it’s sucked some of my creative energy from my writing. But I’m trying to just go with it. I don’t want to do it for money, or take classes, or compete with others. I just want to do it for the sheer pleasure of seeing what I can capture.
So tonight, as the golden sunset began forming on the horizon, the wheat field wet with dew from an evening shower, my mind began to wander and my eyes strayed out the window as I gave my girls their bath. “There will be other sunsets,” I told myself. As I rested my head on my arms against the tub, my knees a bit damp from the splashes on the rug, I settled into my toddler’s sweet face, and enjoyed the moment. She’s always so lively in the bath, narrating intricate stories, of which I can understand approximately half.
My husband’s sudden presence in the bathroom startled me. He’d worked a long, hard day, and was doing the dad thing, resting in the recliner. “Grab your camera, go outside.”
My first thought was deer. They were probably up close to the house, and he wanted me to get a shot. I jumped up. “What did you see out there?” What he said next was quite possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever said to me. “It’s really pretty out, and I know you like taking pictures.”
The feeling I had can only be compared to when you come down the stairs on Christmas morning, and see THE box. The one you know contains that thing you’d been praying for all year. You can’t wait to rip it open. I can’t remember if I said another word. I just threw on my flip-flops and hurried out the door. The battery on my real camera was dead, so my iPhone would have to do.
Like a drunk bellying up to the bar, I took shot after shot. Bending, squatting, experimenting until the moment was gone. Deliriously, I swiped through the images on my phone, so pleased with what I’d captured. “That’s cool,” was my husband’s response, his arms wrapped tight around our toddler, still wrapped in only a towel after her bath. She threw a fit when she saw mommy outside without her. He may not appreciate the photos I’m taking (it’s just not his thing), but he gets it. He knows what it’s like to be fired up about something, and have the freedom to just do your thing. He gets it. He gets me. And that is all I can ask for as a woman, as a wife. I am lucky. I am blessed. I am grateful.