Memory Of My Mother

She has a very special place in my heart…

I remember watching my mother take pictures as a child.

The way she angled her body to catch the beams of sunshine pouring through the weeping willows above us, the *click click click* of each new shot. I would sit on the edge of the tree stump with my feet dangling, and simply observe her. She would become so absorbed in catching the “perfect” shot. At times she would beckon for me to come to her and I would run over, excited to be invited into her world, even if only for a few moments. Getting to share this passion with her made me feel as though I had gained the key to a secret world that only she and I knew about. We would sit and critique each photograph, finding new ways to capture the beauty of the world before it passed us by.

Every Saturday we would walk along Old Richmond Road and find a new spot. Every spot had something a different scene to capture. To the average person, all these places we went to may look the same, but to my mother this was not the case. Mother could find beauty in anything. She would evaluate the space and look for things that stood out. I have never been the best observer but my mother, oh mother, nothing went past her eyes. She would find hidden patches of field flowers, blooming pink and blue in the spring months. In the winter she would follow the tracks of animals ever so stealthy leading her to them.

I have never been the most graceful person and I could never understand how she was so still and quiet. I would sit back in awe watching her capture flawless pictures of squirrels and deer, who never once noticed her presence. With each passing season, we went on new adventures, documenting each with these perfectly planned pictures. These pictures became our pride and joy. We would take them home to my father, scrolling through the hundreds of shots taken and explain to him the stories behind each photograph. Mother would talk with such zeal and enthusiasm, pointing out the smallest things invisible to my fathers eyes. These were our nights and days…

Many mothers and daughters go shopping together or get their nails done, but for my mother and I this was not the case. We would bond over what both loved. And that was capturing the small moments in life that we are thankful for. Taking time to notice all of the beauty of nature. This is such a small blessing we are given each and every day. This is what my mother and I loved. Mother was the beginning of my love for photography. She took such pride in her work and I truly saw her passion for this art.

To her, these photos represented the beauty of each passing moment that she would never forget.

To me, these photos were the memories I have with my mother that I likewise, will treasure forever.