Summer Stories

We spent a week at the beach and one morning I set the alarm for crazy o’clock, slipped into my favorite sparkly flip flops, and grabbed the camera on the way out. I promised myself to take a break that week from hiding behind lenses and screens, but I wanted to remember the way it looked before breakfast.


I used the wrong lens for morning sun, or so I’m told by people who know about such things. I didn’t believe it until I downloaded the photos and discovered that apparently, the type of lens one uses does matter. I attempted to take photos of fireworks on the fourth, and apparently shutter speed matters too. And aperture, and whether or not you want to be present in the moment or fiddling with a bunch of buttons while your husband says, “What are you doing? You’re missing all the good shots!”
Missing all the good shots. Yes, I suppose I am. I’ve tried to learn how it all works, and God bless the poor souls who’ve tried to teach me. They deserve a cotton candy flavored water ice. But it’s not second nature yet, and I fiddle around and try to get it right and the moment passes, or the sun rises, or a man wearing white socks and sandals taking glamour shots of himself comes into view. 
My life feels like a series of wrong lenses and missed moments right now. I’m trying to see things clearly, and fumbling with the buttons, but the light shifts, and some guy keeps stepping into my view. It’s not perfect. The future looks fuzzy, and it’s crazy o’clock. But the sun still shines, and the path leads forward, and I capture it as best I can. 

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