How chocolate covered pretzels made me realize I’m a jerk

 

 

This post was going to be about my sweet Frances, my joyful girl, and how she turned two right under my nose – without even asking me first.

But how this photograph came to be, the way it happened and how we ran into some kind people seemed too important not to share. I’ll save all the Frances gushing until I get all my film scans back from her birthday weekend.

If you’re my personal Facebook friend, you may have seen my post about taking Frances down to the river to photograph her in front of the beautiful blooming cherry blossoms. Cherry blossom trees only bloom for about 2 weeks in April, so you’ve got to be quick if you’re going to catch them. This year they coincided with Frances’ second birthday so I really wanted to get some photographs of her with them.

So one night Brandon and I carted Frances off to the river with a fresh roll of film in the camera. I took all of these portraits of her under this low hanging tree – perfect for letting her explore. When shooting film, you don’t have the benefit of being able to look down to see what you captured. For me right now, film is about using my imagination. It’s taking what I see + translating that. I’m so new to it that I’m never quite sure if I’ve gotten it right until I get the scans back. Sometimes I’m elated, sometimes I’m disappointed.

We spent some time down there, I photographed her playing under the blossoms, picking off the “roses” and handing them to me only to have them disintegrate into petals in her hands. We left to go get some water ice where I photographed some more, used up the roll and headed home only to discover I had loaded the camera with black and white film. All that color I saw through my lens, the warm summer-like light, the perfect pink blossoms – it would all be tonal now. Different shades of whites and blacks and grays.

After I got over my initial frustration (and if I’m being honest, it took me a few hours. My poor husband had to keep listening to me randomly huff and sigh all night. I couldn’t let it go), I decided to head back down the next night. This time, just me and Frances. I drug Brandon out the first time, there was no way I was getting him to go again.

I packed Frances up and drove down to the river with the sun only moments from heading over the horizon. So I did the logical thing and start running – heavy camera bag and two year old in tow. And when we finally got down there, a messy fluster of panting and sweating, I saw that there was a family having a picnic by the tree – THE tree – laid out and casually chatting, the kids dancing around and laughing.It was picturesque.

For their family, not for mine.

My first instinct was to be annoyed. How was I going to shoot these photographs without getting these people in my background? The forecast was calling for heavy rains in the next few days and I was afraid by the time I got back down there that the tree would be bare. As I started shooting though, my annoyance quickly turned to embarrassment as I felt like I was the one that should be feeling like a pest. Here I was interrupting this family’s serene sunset by the river, blankets and snacks laid out, shoes carelessly tossed to the side, and me right in the middle of it with my loud, clunky camera.

As I was getting ready to leave, I heard the mother say “Sure, but ask her mommy if she can have it first” and then from the other side of the tree two smiling faces peeked through to ask me if Frances could have a chocolate covered pretzel. Frances, of course, happily accepted and the kids went back to laughing and running,  their father yelling “guys! you’re missing the sunset!” in the background.

It touched me. It was such a simple and sweet gesture, likely something that this family is so used to that it doesn’t even seem out of the ordinary, but yet was extraordinary to me. And then I immediately felt all the guilt. You know the guilt. The guilt you get when you’re driving and ready to mow the person down in front of you, only to find out that they’re a senior citizen. Or when you want to know WHY there is so much traffic, annoyed that its ruining your plans, only to pass by an accident and then secretly counting your blessings. Or when someone takes your parking spot, but then ends up holding the door for you at the convenience store.

(Hm. All my stories are all about driving + road rage. I have not overlooked this.)

Anyway, I felt all the guilt. I was thinking of ways I could make it up to them and I asked them if I could photograph them by the river. They happily accepted, because.. well, they’re a happy family and they didn’t know I was ever annoyed to begin with or that I now felt guilty about my annoyance. So I did, and that was that.

I was ready to pack my little lady up when the kids started playing with her. The girl, who had to be 12 or so, was picking flowers off of the tree and handing them to Frances. And the little boy, maybe 8 or 9, would pick a flower off the tree and shower them down on her. She was hysterical. And these kids who were so much older than her played with her so nicely. They were kind and gentle – the little boy pretended to be a monster which Frances LOVED. He would pretend to chase her slowly like a robot monster, never scaring her just thrilling her. And she’d run and hide behind me. And she’d laugh – little joyful fits of laughter. Everything that being two is about.

 

 

As I watched them, I smiled. This outing that started rushed and then annoyed and then embarrassed and then guilty was now so happy. It made me think about myself and how easily I am frustrated or angry – how easily I fly off the handle. How often I react to circumstances, whether real or perceived, and how that affects those around me. And that leading with patience and openness and love can entirely change a situation. I don’t believe in much, but I do think that nothing happens by accident. People come in to your life, even if briefly, to teach you. Sometimes they are a mirror for your own bad behavior, and sometimes they are an ideal to strive to. A reflection of yourself, or a reflection of who you’d like to be.

Before you think I’m insane, I don’t actually think that I’m going to wake up tomorrow and change. I don’t think that I’m going to suddenly get rid of my temper, be calmer when I’m annoyed, or more patient when I’m frustrated. Those things just don’t happen overnight. But, it got me thinking about who I am and why I am and if thats who I really want to be. I think thats what self-reflection is all about.

It was all because of a couple of nice words, a couple of sweet kids, and a chocolate covered pretzel.

That night taught me to be those nice words, be those sweet kids. Carry chocolate covered pretzels with you everywhere.

 

xo, Lauren