On Sunday we sailed a wooden ship on the creek. I left the chairs pulled out from the dining room table, the vacuum still plugged in to the wall so I could walk to the beach with them. So that I could enjoy the surprising winter warmth.
The beach was full for a late December day. Filled with families on day trips. Three blonde little girls in bathing suits braving cold water.
There is no denying that it was beautiful. But I didn't take pictures of Gus's frustration. The way he panicked each time the boat didn't sail the way he wanted it to. The fit he threw before I banished him to the other end of the beach. And I certainly have no pictures from when the nice couple from DC called over to me from the boardwalk 50 yards away, telling me that Arlo had followed them on their walk. I didn't capture my mortification that gave way to fear, realizing how terrible things can happen in the blink of eyes that are easily distracted by the confusion that comes with four children. These things remain outside of the images. These things and thousands and thousands of other words and moments and feelings and mistakes don't make their way here.
The sail boat is from Seaworthy Small Ships, my friend's family's business. They sell them directly online, but also sell them through Best Made Company, which is chocked full of pretty things.
Your photos are as lovely and uncomplicated as the feelings behind the words are the opposite: great candour and contrast .. Makes me think about all the things which remain outside the words in my own journals.
ReplyDeleteThere isn't time or space to capture it all. But we can try. Happy New Year.
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ReplyDeleteThanks.
Deletesuch a honest perspective. the real story behind your perfect photos makes me feel such a strong connection. sometimes i forget how unifying it can be to share our struggles.
ReplyDeleteIt's so much easier for me to actually connect to the weird and imperfect too. And sometimes it feels good to remember we aren't alone in those ordinary struggles.
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