Golden hour from the 12th floor

The day ends
Laval, QC
July 2011
This photo originally shared on Instagram

The balcony of my father-in-law's condo is on the 12th floor, and it has an unobstructed view west of the town where both my wife and I grew up. It's perfect for sunsets, assuming we're there to capture them.

Years ago, I'd often jump up from dinner and grab my camera when the sky put on a compelling show. My now-late mother-in-law would wait patiently till I returned before asking to see the results on the camera's rear screen. I took this particular shot in 2011, and I can still remember the conversation with her when I got back inside. She called it a painting.

These days, we're there less often, and dinners don't happen here anymore. I'm not sure how much longer we'll have access to this specific spot in the sky, in the universe. Which makes photos like this so special to me. Because what at first glance presents as a lovely pic of a painted-sky sunset is actually, to me, a portrait of a now-vanished time in my family's history, and a reminder to us all to take the time to remember places and moments like these.

Because they disappear sooner than any of us would like to imagine.