Why I Rarely Take Pictures

The Pacific Ocean was exceptionally beautiful that late summer day. My husband and I slipped off our shoes and walked the sandy beach.

We had moved to the Pacific Northwest nearly fifteen years ago, a far cry from the small Midwest town we’d grown up in. It was while we were on vacation that we fell in love with the area, the mountains, the valley, and most of all, the ocean.

The ocean mesmerized us from the start. The way it clambered up rocky beds, how it churned and spit frothy water. Its untamed beauty. Its wildness. Its serenity.

We watched the waters draw closer, daring to kiss our bare toes. My husband took my hand and pulled me towards him. Waves hit rocks in a thunderous roar. Foam rose over foam.

A perfect picture moment, one I wanted forever engraved in my mind. I reached inside my bag with my left hand, looking for my camera, but it was stuck. I began to pull my other hand from my husband’s grasp, when I stopped.

I looked at our fingers, ten little pieces of bone and flesh, intertwined, then looked back at the sea. This place, the way the sea rose and fell, the way waves crossed one another in fragmented angles and sun beamed on water’s sharp edges, would never happen again. The ocean never looks the same way twice.

But that moment, my husband and I entranced by the scene before us, our hands merged as one, that moment right then. Right there. That would never come again either.

Once a moment is gone, it is gone forever. There is no replay button in life. Click To Tweet

I pulled my hand out of the bag, and leaned closer to my husband, squeezing our fingers tighter. He looked over and smiled.

A chilly breeze swept across the sands. Gulls glided in a rhythmic motion of grace. A perfect picture moment. A moment I would never see again. A moment I would never forget.

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6 thoughts on “Why I Rarely Take Pictures”

  1. Vicki, I often get too caught up in the moment to take pictures, too. Just like I won’t pick up my phone and send a text in the middle of a in-person conversation, it sometimes seems disrespectful to the moment to break the spell and fumble with a camera. Sadly, because I’m bad with pictures, I miss out on big moments, too. I don’t have a single picture of my family from this past Christmas when we visited family, nor from my husband’s recent 60th birthday celebration! Waaa!

    1. Karen, I’m happy to hear you say that. Think of all the memories you a part of, instead of just being a bystander holding a camera. It’s really cool that you can ignore your phone. I don’t know many people who can do that. I’m happy that you are truly in the moment.

  2. What a great moment and memory you’ll have forever. I used to rarely take pictures, but now, for me, it all changed when my kids were born. I’m not obsessive about taking pictures (okay so I am sometimes!), but I’m grateful now to have physical memories to look back at as they grow oh too quickly before my eyes. They’re often a nice balance to those memories that are just inside (non photographic ones).

    1. I took many pictures of my children when they were little, and I can honestly say I am happy I have them. I won’t stop taking pictures, only now, I think a bit more before snapping that camera. Sometimes it’s easy for me to get so lost in photo-taking, I forget to enjoy the moment. That’s where I am at right now. But yes! Never stop taking pictures of your children. They are gone in the blink-of-an-eye.

  3. This is beautiful. We unfortunately so easily get caught up in the ‘if I don’t take a picture it didn’t happen’ that we miss the beauty in the simple things. Thanks for sharing this moment.

    1. Carol, It’s so true, isn’t it? As if we have to prove to others, and ourselves, that we were there. But then the moment is gone, and we can never relive it. I appreciate pictures, but I’m learning to enjoy the moment I am in. Thanks for reading! Glad you enjoyed it.

Would love to hear your thoughts.