More often than I dare admit, I’ll take a lousy photo. The lousiness is deliberate, however, because what I’m really trying to do is remember the moment I shot it.
To better explain this notion, allow me to take us back to the airport, or more precisely Winnipeg’s Richardson International Airport.
It’s a couple of days before Christmas, and my lovely wife and I are in the terminal waiting for our flight back to Toronto. We’re in the middle of a crazy trip home from Northern Ontario that involves more legs than an octopus.
A pea-soup fog has enveloped the airport as nasty weather warnings both here and at our destination threaten to further delay our trip. Good times.
But I’m with her, and we’ve always rather enjoyed difficult journeys as long as we’re together. And we’ve found a delightfully comfy couch near the gate. Calmness amid the storm, if you will.
When Debbie sets off in search of snacks, I find myself staring up at the ceiling because, well, that’s my thing. Soon enough I settle on the boring squared pattern on the ceiling overhead and decide it’s time to capture it somehow.
Which explains how I end up lying on the big comfy couch shooting straight up while the friendly-looking silver-haired couple sitting across from us looks on with a curious mixture of bemusement and suspicion.
This happens whenever I engage in spontaneous photography in public spaces. It looks weird, I know, but it’s a benign, funny kind of weird instead of the creepier kind. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I hope it brings a little brightness to others during an otherwise grey point in time. I hope they’re making indelible memories along the way, just like I am.
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