Tonight as I broke away from the party in search of a photo; I had no idea what I would find. As I rambled down a dusty and unfamiliar country road; I decided to try to catch the sunset. Those of you who have spent much time either viewing, or photographing sunsets know that the real magic happens once the sun is gone. In the distance I could see the sun threatening to disappear below the horizon. My foot pressed harder upon the gas. A good vantage point was what I needed to assure that my capture would be successful. This gravel road eventually emptied out onto a paved road. One that I had traveled down before. The river was just ahead, and in my mind I was trying to remember if there was a big enough clearing for me to photograph. The sun pulled had pulled up its pastel blanket and was gone just as the river came into view. Relief washed over me as I pulled over to setup. Although I knew I had time to get set; I fumbled with my gear like a Freshman clumsily gropes for his combination just before the bell. The sky was full of amazing light. It wrapped everything in its quiet embrace and looked down lovingly upon the now silhouetted trees.
I stood in the fading light with my camera securely on my tripod. A solitary car came sailing by, and I wondered if they were aware of what was happening. It took little time to compose what I had hoping for. Standing there I whispered aloud to myself, "Why hasn't this been a part of your life?". No answers came. This happens everyday in some fashion, though not always this way. "Yet the potential is there and you have neglected taking your seat to witness the magic!", my conscience scolded me. It suddenly occurred to me that witnessing this sunset reminded me of the sunsets I was missing at home. The ones that happen everyday in and around my home. The ones that are uniquely my daughters. My eyes moistened at the corners as I put away my gear. Sadly, I wonder how many times I have just grunted, "Uh huh" when she excitedly tries to show me her latest this, that, or the other thing. Like sand pouring through my fingers these moments are numbered; and I dare not guess how many grains have already fallen un-cherished to the floor. When I grumble at her for not acting more grown up; the sand leaps out of my cupped hands. Calling out her name gruffly as I point to the clutter that is most assuredly hers; the sand drains between my fingers, spilling to the floor. For the times when no words leave my lips, yet daggers fly from a deadly, glaring tower; the sand bounces into a deserted corner never to be seen again.
Soon all things were whizzing by me in a blur as I sped toward my eleven year old sunset. She was there shining and wrapped in all of her glowing colors waiting for the candles on her cake to be lit. As fire leapt from the match to each candle; we all broke into Happy Birthday. Only I sang a little louder and more off key in hopes that she would smile at me. In hopes that she would know that I was in awe of her. She made her wish and blew them all out. What she wished for I'll never know, but my wish I will share. I wish to remember that everyday there is a sunset in my home. To hold that gushing sand tightly in my hands in hopes to preserve precious moments that I have been blessed with. To give her a break and let some things stay hidden under the rug. To watch her show and not try to direct it. Most of all, to just let her shine like she was meant to and bask in her glow. Happy Birthday Sunshine. I love you.
Happy Shooting.
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