These days, most of the dearest vanishing moments in my life involve comical or adorable antics of the giant puppy. But lately, I have marveled at how winter shows its mood from day to day. One day the wet and wind encased everything in a nature-popsicle; The next day, perfectly formed snowflakes whipped in from the horizon and up my nose; By the weekend, snowdrifts threaten to bury my car; This week, we’ve been seeing good ole’ Mister sun. But today, as I was waking up with my coffee and nicotine in the frozen morning, nature (which logically cannot be the subject of this sentence, so let’s just agree on “God”) showed me something new.
My first instinct was to fetch my camera and capture the phenomenon before it melted. For some reason, I feel compelled to capture every curiosity, every memory, every joy. I have the pack-rat gene (although several cross-country relocations in my 2-door hatchback has taught me the virtues of low-maintenance living). I decided, instead, to sit, inspect, relish, marvel, and try to enjoy the loveliness of the moment and resist the compulsion to preserve it. Why look at everything through the lens of a camera, when the photo fails to capture the fullness of such a stunning sight? And I sat and contemplated my own need to cling to every beautiful thing. I think I am afraid that I will forget, once the skies turn grey. I need to remember that many more lovely things are ahead. Letting go requires optimism. Letting go requires faith. You have to remember that the sun comes up every morning, no matter how dark and scary and long the night. You must concede that “the best day of your life” is a guessing game until the day you die. I guess a rich existence requires you to live your life on the bad days, too. Life isn’t scrap-booking. Pictures are just reminders. So, just for the heck of it, I took of picture of my morning. I wanted to celebrate it.
(clicking on the picture gives a close-up)
