I’ve decided I need to pursue photography as a hobby again. I always love good photographs. In a life that often passes too quickly, few things are as valuable as a captured moment. To me, a good photograph is like music – it stirs an emotional response. A relative recently gave me an old picture of a group of kids he couldn’t identify. I recognized them immediately. It was my two older brothers, my older sister, and three of our cousins. It looked like a special occasion, maybe Easter. They looked happy – like they were having fun, despite the 70’s polyester and sandals my brothers were wearing. That’s arsenal any sibling loves to taunt. Since my sister looked around six or seven years old, I assume I had just been born. I never really knew my siblings like they were in that photograph. Six years later my parents divorced and my brothers and sister spent the next several years of their lives becoming a statistic for the negative effects of a broken family. In that moment though, they were happy.
It’s also one of the few photographs I now have of my sister who died too early in life. When you lose someone you love, they disappear in stages. I remember how sad I felt when I could no longer remember what her voice sounded like, or how she laughed. It’s been thirteen years since she died and my memories of her are less vivid every year. It frightens me to think that without photographs, my mind could very well forget her face.
Even though I took a class several years ago, I’m never going to be a professional photographer. I probably won’t even be that good. It doesn’t matter , I’m not out to win any awards. I just want to capture a little time. Who knows when I may want to get it back.