Saturday was a beautiful day, and I desperately needed to
spend some time outside. With the
weather as cold as it had been, and snow that just won’t melt, I have felt
completely trapped in my house and feeling thus has made me terribly
cranky. I’ve wanted to go hiking, but
the conditions just have not been very conducive for a walk in the woods, especially
with a four year old. But on Saturday, I
had to go out, I had to do something fun and I very much wanted to go for a
walk. My spouse suggested a trip down to
New Hope and Lambertville where we could walk along the canal. It seemed like a good idea, so that is where
we went.
As soon as we got to the canal, my son informed us that he
was going to be the leader. He insisted
that we follow him, stepping exactly where he stepped. My spouse was a little better at following directions
than I was. I tried. I really did. The problem was I brought my camera and I
kept getting distracted by things to take pictures of. I stopped when I heard ducks splashing in the
water or geese honking or when I noticed a cool leaf hanging off a plant located
slightly off the path. My constant
stopping and shooting frustrated my son.
Every so often he would turn around to check on us, make sure we were
doing what he wanted and if we were, he gave us a thumbs up. If we had fallen behind or stepped out of
line we – or rather I, since I seemed to be the only delinquent – got a thumbs
down. At one point my son pointed a
finger at me and issued a reprimand, “Stop taking pictures.” But how could I stop? Taking pictures is almost like a reflex. I see something cool and I have to try and
capture it, even when no one else seems to see what I see. Often, it appears to others that my camera is
pointed at nothing. My son, more than
once, even asked, “What are you taking a picture of?” Then he’d add, “It’s just a tree.” Or, “It’s
just a duck.” But that’s just it. It isn’t just a tree or a duck or stone or
leaf if you angle the lens properly or put yourself on a different plane. Everything is ordinary if you chose to see it
that way; everything is special if you are willing to bend and twist your mind,
your eye or your lens.
When my son’s level of frustration with me finally reached a
degree of exasperation he scolded, “Mama, you are not listening. If I have to
tell you one more time to follow me, I’m putting you in jail. You are a very
bad caboose.” In school, the last child
on line is the caboose, and the job of the caboose is stay close to the rest of
the train. He doesn’t like to be the
caboose, but he does do his job well when it is assigned to him. Spotting some interesting leaves growing up
the side of a tree, I disobeyed orders, raised my camera, and as my finger
pressed down on the shutter a small hand reached up and pulled on my arm, “Okay,
you are going to jail now.” My son took
my hand and gently escorted me to an invisible jail. He was so cute, and since I was guilty how
could I object.
Despite my spell in jail, it turned out to be a wonderful
day. I got to spend the afternoon
walking outside with my favorite little man and I captured a couple of decent pictures
along the way.
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