Every year around this time, my sister off-handily asks me to bring my camera home to “take a couple of pictures of the boys for a Christmas card.” Seems easy enough, right? Well it used to be. Back before said boys knew what capturing a decent photograph entailed. Things like real clothes, real smiles and real hugs that don’t end in punches, pinches or pokes.
Before we get into this year’s crop, let’s revisit the good ol’ days when the boys were oblivious and the photos were plentiful.
After a 6-hour flight delay heading home, I arrived to a snowy Springfield just in time to head over to Champaign the next day for Thanksgiving. We made the most of the weekend, booking a wedding photographer, finding a wedding dress and catching up with a few friends and family in the process. If you’ve read any of my posts you probably know I’m horrible with big decisions. It wasn’t without some forethought that we decided to plan a wedding in 6 months. If you want to see a procrastinator change her tune, tell her it takes 6 months for a wedding dress to be made.
Anywho, we managed to squeeze in a little photo shoot a few hours before my flight back home and I will admit I was a little doubtful we would end up with anything useful. The boys had been in the car all day, Jake was willing to do just about anything aside from putting clothes on and they were well-aware that the next 20 minutes would involve more patience and participation than they were willing to give.
That’s what I love about photographs. They pause a single moment in time. Between the paparazzi-shielding hands, the cold wind complaints (it was 55) and the school photo smiles.
Photographs allow you to get a snapshot of someone looking exactly the way you love them most. Just being them.