In the tumbling chaos, the confusion, the isolation, the anger…
A moment by stillness. Toes muddy and cool. Tranquility and exhalation.
I watch her grow into her gracefulness. She seems to have a wisdom about all of this that I desire. She beams still over inconsequential moments. She radiates contentment while I struggle.
Have you heard of the syndrome, “Photographer’s Child?” It’s murmured frequently in my profession. Because we love our built in test-subjects, and they too soon are “over it.” So I make a point to insist that they permit me to take our family portrait once a year, and try otherwise to leave them alone.
Ah-ha! Reverse psychology! Now, every time I have a client come, they beg me to take their picture, too.
So we tromped into the backyard. I had to coax her into the mud by the creek. Her dress originally was purple. Her shirt was a vibrant turquoise. My daughter asked if we could print it for her room. My son also wants a print of himself for his room, though he was satisfied with our last studio session:
Yes, Little Man is in his pajamas.
