“Oh, it must be awesome being married to a photographer!” I hear, over and over. Yes. Completely awesome. Especially in light of how I hate having my picture taken. I’m not complaining about him, you understand, but sometimes I do wonder how blind love must be for me to have done that.
[A common scene in our house: Otto, trying to take my picture. Me, hiding behind things, wrapping my arms around my head, or just pulling a monstrous face. Otto eventually throwing up his hands in disgust while asking, “WHY DID YOU MARRY ME?” Me, running away, calling over my shoulder, “You’re cute and I wanted more pictures of the kids!”]
The truth is that I love seeing the world through his lens. I wish we could do that without him trying to snap ME quite so often, but whatever. Details.
I make sense of the world through words, and Otto makes sense of the world through either taking it apart, piece by piece, or putting his camera to it.
Yesterday I was making dinner when Otto poked his head into the kitchen.
“Can you come outside for a minute?” he asked.
I put a lid on the pot I’d been poking, and went and slipped my feet into some shoes. Otto led me outside the edge of the driveway and pointed at a nearby tree. About twelve feet in the air, a huge section of the trunk had been obliterated. The bark was gone and the wood was shredded. It was as if something large and hungry had swooped past, taking an enormous bite out of the tree.
We had a brief discussion about it—could a little squirrel have done all that damage, in just one day? Could a bear go that high? Had anyone seen a giraffe in the neighborhood? (Okay, I admit to bringing up the giraffe.) Whatever it was, would it come back? Should we move the cars in case the tree fell? (The tree is very tall, but skinny, and the damage was pretty extensive.)
And so it came to pass that this morning, the children finished their breakfast and soon Otto had gone and done this.
Now I’m working away to the plodding rhythm of the camera snapping a frame every minute or so. Maybe we’ll get our answer, maybe we won’t.
But at least it afforded me the opportunity to waggle my eyebrows at Otto and say, “Oooh, baby, you have such a BIG LENS!” And that, my friends, is love.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone. Sometimes love defies understanding. But if it makes you giggle, that’s a very good sign.