Monday, June 23, 2014

And me without my camera.

I usually bring one of my cameras out to the beach safely ensconced in a ziploc bag, but on our first trip out I forgot.  I played in the waves and then sat in the sand for a while, idly chatting and watching.  And then it happened.  I noticed how perfectly adorable Kate was; sitting there with a pink and white sun hat atop the wavy hair, pudgy arms moving the sand shovels back and forth to the bucket.  This is too cute, I thought, I should grab my camera.  Followed by the realization that the camera, any camera, was up at the beach house. 

Inside I had a quick battle.  Do I stay or do I go??  Part of me wanted to dash up into the house and grab a camera.  But I listened to the other part, to the part of my brain that was arguing for being in the moment over trying to record the moment.  I told myself that there was no guarantee that the cute moment would still be happening if I left to get the camera.  I told myself to sit there and watch and enjoy.  And I obeyed.

I won’t lie—I wish that I could have had my cake and eaten it too.  I wish that I had a picture of Kate in that classic beach moment because she was precious.  But at the same time I’m glad I stayed.  Glad I stayed right there, right in the moment.  Because it was beautiful.  Even if I have no photographic evidence of that fact.


(This is a picture from today.  When I made sure to take the camera!)

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