when I found out my grandmother died it was 6 am in the morning. as I drove through the fog down a country road to go see her I had flashes of memories of her and I together.
And I wonder if that's how it will be with motherhood. Flashes of memories even photographs couldn't capture. the time your daughter's friend was mean and she ran to you, wrapped her arms around your waist and smashed her face into your stomach and you felt her pain more than she did. the last look, after the goodbyes have been said and the camera put away she gives you as she enters the first day of first grade. the time after camping for days and walking into a gas station bathroom with your son and looking at your hair and gasping. and your 4 year old son says I think it’s beautiful. and you immediately know it’s because that is what he hears his father say. and you go to your knees and hug him so tight. and there was no camera to capture that.
because I believe all of us will be little old grandmas seeing ourselves in the overwhelmed mother and saying gosh it goes fast.
because as much as I try to photograph the everyday, it makes me question whether the real stuff really can be photographed.
because I can only hope that through these photos taken it stirs up memories. it helps to remember as the years pile onto each other that one time. that one time your kid hit you to your core and there was no camera to capture it.