…Where my writer’s voice went.
I know that after my oldest daughter went back to the States I lost pieces of myself.
Certainly…My writer’s voice.
Even the camera.
The one thing I never grew tired of.
I didn’t have heart when I picked it up.
Each day, the camera, this blog, the steps, thinking, being…All of it became too heavy.
When my daughter went back, I needed time to feel the pain.
I didn’t do it.
Instead, I pushed it all down deep inside me where it wouldn’t hurt. I did what I have always done.
I went on.
As if nothing had happened.
Yet, something had happened.
I had changed even if I am still the same.
I must find myself again.
I have found that in life we grow, we change and we become.
I am picking up all that pain instead of shoving it into the dark.
I am stronger for it.
I am (now) able to go on growing, changing and becoming.
Today, I picked up the camera as my son played. It was the first time in a long time that I have picked it up with heart. I could almost feel the picture forming in my head. Almost.
When I take photos, it is out of a love for photography that swallows everything.
I don’t think about the technical aspects of the picture. I don’t want to.
I see a moment and I capture it with my tool, my camera.
Everything should be so simple.