Some of them are delayed this year, going out with cards packed in boxes with presents. This lingering cold is draining my ambition to finish, wrap and mail the last boxes, and shopping trips are limited despite my masking to avoid exchanging all the various virus particles others are already being overly generous with this holiday season. I'm not one to brag about all those family "We're so proud..." moments, showing off to the world that one's life is so amazing, one has the best children accomplishing the most extraordinary things in the most amazing places (that money can buy, usually), but everything below is from this past year. I thought I'd post both the card and letter here:
Cherish The Moments
The card photo captures a very unusual moment. It lasted perhaps 2 minutes, late last August, right after sunrise at Bear Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. We’d gotten our pass to get in at 5AM and did, drove to the end of the road in the dark, headlights just showing the curves in the road and the stripes for parking in a world of black. We sat while more cars arrived, a few intrepid hikers laden with expensive equipment headed in to take the dark trail, and light gradually grew on the eastern horizon. At just the same magic moment, about a dozen cars emptied out and many of us gave it our try. Steve opted to sit in the car. I made it just to where the trail turns west along the north side of Bear Lake, trying various shots while all the other hikers passed, when I looked up at the sky. The clouds were orange on a blue backdrop, and I took different exposures to capture the orange rather than washing it out. I’d just finished that with some success when I looked down at the water. This photo is the best result of my shooting. I could have continued the hike, but I knew nothing I could shoot along the path now the sun was fully up would compare to that moment. It was mine alone.
We have learned to cherish those infrequent moments, whether it be a photo, watching an elk herd wandering past the door to our motel room, a meal with family and friends, a flower blooming for a single day, the oriole teaching its fledgelings to fly into the cherry tree laden with ripe fruit. It’s when that new experiment with a recipe works out for Steve, the tug of a fish on the line, the hours spent sharing the river with your good fishing buddy, seeing another friend coming out of a years-long depression and reach back out to you, watching young children compete jumping off lawn chairs. It’s the day you’re no longer sick enough to have to quarantine, the hummingbird drinking from your backyard bush, the laughter when the door blows open at the same second you bend over to move a block into place to keep it securely closed, and your head and doorknob meet unexpectedly. It didn’t hurt, honest. Not much. It’s that moment you find a very old favorite TV program on some cable channel and set a timer to record it for later watching. It’s trying to watch a wedding you can’t attend over somebody’s brief attempt to send it from their phone, and getting it just well enough and long enough you can tell the people involved you love them.
It’s the few moments you have the privilege of spending with your best friend of 40 years during her last days in hospice, bending over to give the hug she can’t quite rise up for. It’s seeing the bubbler lights on the tree again for the first time this season, finding that they still work. It’s the moment you solve that pesky problem, or find a new enthusiasm, or share a hug in the kitchen as you pass each other. It’s finding that special silky spot in the dog’s fur and her deciding to let you stroke it for 20 minuses.
It’s realizing you are blessed enough to still recognize the value of those moments, and retain the ability to call those memories up later whenever you want or need them. And it’s knowing you can share them with other people you care about.
Notice and enjoy your special moments. Cherish them in memory. Share them.
Steve & Heather
No comments:
Post a Comment