Get in there

I admit it: I am rarely in a photo with my children.
Girls, No. 3 13
It’s not because I shy away from the camera. Point one toward me, and I am likely to burst into an over-the-top scrunch-nosed, big open-mouthed smile. It’s not pretty, either. Then, all my chins – which seem to be increasing with my age – are showing. My freckles and scars are plain to see. My flock of crows etch the corners of my eyes. Additional curves adorn my waist where none should be. A flat and wide backside does injustice to jeans meant for more substance.

And yet I yearn to be caught.

To be preserved. To leave a visual impression – – something more than a fading memory of presence.

I’m not the only photographer here. I’m not the only one to record our legacy.

What about me?
Girls, No. 3 13 (too)

I need to be part of the portrait – included, even if rarely, in the collection being built for my family. And so, I tote my tripod. I carry my frequently fickle remote control. I beg, plead, bribe my kids into staging photo shoots. And sometimes? They actually humor me.
Mom & Ri, No.3 13

Even more special? When Chi – or Rico, when he’s home for the weekend – volunteer to hold the camera and snap a few quick pictures. Unposed. Real. Me, enjoying the moments with my children. Enjoying the treasure trove of experiences that motherhood offers.


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I must insist more often. Perhaps equip them with a camera, too. Become a fixture in the image. Exist within the frame of snap shots taken to hold onto moments.
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