It should not surprise most of you that today when I took my son to the ER after he hit his head on the cement, I took a picture of the entrance and sign as we walked in and then another of our son on the hospital bed waiting for the doctor…and another with the ice pack on his head and a thumbs up because he got the all clear. Not everyone understands my passion and I can be a little sensitive about it (I hastily shoved my camera in my bag when the nurse came in, as if she caught me smoking), but I love to take photographs. Not like normal people. I like to take photos to capture a story…and I like capturing everyday stories a lot. This usually means I take several dozen (or dozens) more pictures than the average person. I love capturing the essence of the day, event, outing or struggle. If we’re at the beach I’ll need to take a least five pictures of our feet…and the grass, sand, waves, the food we eat, our landscape view, the signs leading up to the trail to the beach, the trail, the stones on the trail, and of course, the people.
It started early. My father is a botanist and photographer. My mother dabbled in photography and art. My parents bought me a decent point and shoot when I was young and I started taking pictures of my guinea pigs, my room, my friends and our clubhouse in the backyard. I was addicted. Years later they bought me a SLR. I started traveling and I took pictures of people, homes, markets, food, and toilets (yes, toilets) in different countries. It was when my son was born that I really started snapping away.
Do I take too many pictures? I guess some would say that. Certainly my mother and my husband think so. Some days my I’m surprised my co-workers don’t snatch my camera and throw it down the dumb-waiter. I guess I just want to capture every precious moment I have with my son, family and friends. I guess I want to capture every precious moment I have, period.