Sunday afternoon. Five happy children are scattered throughout the garden. Playing, exploring, enjoying the moment, celebrating the small things in life. Living their childhood. This will be a part of the collage of memories they reflect on as they grow older.
Mummy wanders around with her camera, capturing the little moments, a moment in time becomes still, forever a point of reflection and joy. She is thinking of her grandfather as she snaps. He is sick in bed, the unfortunate victim of a stroke and his days are fading. His great grand children brighten his long days, he loves them dearly. Photos of the children are tacked opposite his bed, it brightens his day.
I snap away. These photos are not quite right. Grandad is old school when it comes to photos. They should be looking straight at the camera. “What a shame,” he has said to me “they glanced away at the wrong time.” Back in his day photos were not taken for artistic interpretation. He doesn’t understand why we capture so many moments. He doesn’t think in the way of the digital camera where you can snap in gay abandon. “The old box brownie took a good photo” he tells me. “It’s around here somewhere in my boxes.”