I’m guilty of taking lots and lots of pictures. They aren’t even what most would consider “good” pictures, but I take them.
I can’t help it. Sometimes I think, “Maybe I should stop taking so many pictures. Who cares about seeing Sprite and Pix blowing bubbles with the turtle?”
The other day I was catching up with my mom and we started talking about what a great seamstress my aunt was when I was a kid. She would make really cute clothes for my cousin and I to wear. My mom started to tell me a story about a superhero cape that my aunt made for my brother when he was around Sprite’s age. My aunt had gone to the fabric store and picked out a very expensive silk and as the saleslady was cutting it for her she asked my aunt what she was going to make with such a nice fabric. My aunt answered, “I’m going to make a superhero cape for my nephew”. The lady snorted and then frowned when she realized my aunt was serious. My aunt didn’t care. She’s kind of awesome that way.
My mom went on to tell me that my brother wore that cape all the time. He wore it until it was tattered and torn. Then one day he just stopped. He moved on to a baseball hat and a glove. I thought this was incredible as I had no memory of this cape and, honestly, couldn’t picture my quiet, mild-mannered brother running around in something so ornate. I told my mom I had to see a picture of my brother in his cape! She sighed and said she never took a picture of him wearing it. How is this possible? Shrugging of the shoulders.
So I’m going to continue to take pictures with reckless abandon…
…wherever I go, because I’m kind of awesome that way.