Amy Grace: Motherhood With a Camera, Part II

i dream of taking all sorts of wildly beautiful images of wildly beautiful places, things, strangers, movement, light…and i will. but right now feels like the height of what is important. it is a feeling i have not been able to shake for the past eight years. since i met you. since you sailed into my life like a giant, perfect wave, clearing away the debris, the marks, the wear. we were a clean canvas together, and you were the art. when i take your picture, i want to show you what i feel about you. i want you to see the quiet and freedom of a moment, always available to you, always contained in you. i want you to remember the noise and joy and laughter, the beautiful mess, the flow, the open books that we were and the open smiles and hearts we wore. but you will see how much i believe in you, how strong you are, how magical, how brave, to your core.

we are all building books of memories. one picture at a time. i need to capture images for which i am instantly nostalgic. because these days i can feel the deep pull of time against us, like gravity. i see you growing before my wondering eyes, and i see the world opening up and growing inside yours. the whole world needs to start where my feet and soul are planted. they are rooted here, with you my sweet daughter. so i will pick up my camera when i feel my heart swell, because i need to hold you here. we will talk and explore and pay attention, growing together, keeping a record that extends beyond our memory.