Beyond land's end

Lives over the water
Deerfield Beach, FL, December 2010

You never quite know what you'll end up with when you put your camera into your kid's hands and tell him to go to town. The pictures could end up blurry. The camera itself could end up irreversibly damaged by oompa loompas and beach sand. You could have to explain it all to your wife when you get back home.

But you'll never know if you don't give your munchkin that first opportunity. Like driving, first apartments and first relationships, you kind of have to hold your breath and let go. Of them, obviously, but also of your own parental need to control everything and keep them from experiencing anything remotely close to hurt.

Whatever happens next is up to them. Scary thought for some, I know, but a necessary step all the same. Because they'll never learn about the bumps and falls of life if we don't let go in the first place, don't give them the opportunity to experience it all first-hand, don't let go of the fear of them coming back with a bruise or two.

On this blustery afternoon, we found ourselves walking along a nearly deserted beach. And it just made sense to let our son carry the camera and see what he could see through its lens. In the end, there were no oompa loompas and no sad stories to tell my wife. What you see here is what he saw, a moment on a place that he's been connected to since he was little (here and here), a story of distant strangers all drawn to this place beyond the edge of the earth, for reasons that will forever remain unknown.

He's clearly got a sense of vision that's very much his own.

Your turn: How do you know when to let go?