…with my camera, that is. I have loved taking pictures for as long as I can remember. In fact, I remember picking up my mom’s polaroid camera and taking a picture of her. She didn’t know that I was going to take it. I remember that moment exact moment. I think I was about 4 or 5 years old and cute as a button. See?
My mom had a guest over and was checking the calendar to schedule the next visit. The camera was sitting on the table unattended. What’s that? Did it just call my name? Yes, I do believe it did. I quickly grabbed it, snapped a picture, set it back down, and pulled the picture out of it. I looked at my mom like, “Uh, hmmm, I don’t know how that happened, but isn’t it neat.” I knew full well that she would laugh it off since we had a guest that day. I find it endearing that she kept the picture. She died when I was 9, but I would love the chance to ask her why she kept it!
When I was in the 3rd or 4th grade I was FINALLY blessed with my very own camera! According to the world wide web it was a horrible camera, but it’s the only one I can remember the model of. I’ve had several since then, but this one had my heart. It was my first love. Though, looking back, it is obvious that it’s quality was poor and that my parent’s old polaroid took better pictures.
Since then I have carried a camera with me practically everywhere I go. I love taking pictures of ordinary everyday life in addition to those special occassions we treasure for the rest of our lives. Recently I was thinking about the great numbers of pictures I take and wondering if it were too many. Then I looked back at some from a few years ago and decided that it was not. I can delete them as I go back through them. I can throw away the ones that are blurry beyond recognition, which I have quite a few of those! However, I have kept one very blurry photo. It was the first one taken on my disc camera. I don’t know where it is at this very moment, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never part with it.