I was six when I got my very first camera. My dad used to sell junk at the flea market on the weekends and I enjoyed rummaging through other people’s stuff while he was busy. I found an old polaroid camera in a box tucked away under a baseball mitt. My dad bought the camera for me but gave me strict rules that I would only get one cartridge of film a month. Every month I would waste away a cartridge of film within minutes. My siblings and I would take turns with the camera until the film was gone. We would wait another month before we could afford another cartridge. I truly believe that camera was my beginning. I loved waiting for the final image to develop. I enjoyed the thrill of not being able to see the photo before it was final. I grew curious of how a moment was stopped in time and transferred into an image.

As I got older, I wanted to document everything. I bought thousands of disposable cameras and took photos all day every day. Again, my dad would only let me develop one camera a month at Walgreens. I had a box full of used disposable cameras, not sure what was in each one. At the beginning of every month it was a surprise to see what was printed. Looking back now, I have documentation from concerts, days of hanging out on bridge street, friends that are no longer alive and some of my “firsts”. First time driving, first time having a sip of alcohol, and yes the first boy I ever had a crush on.

When I was a sophomore in high school, my older brother Lee gave me my first digital camera. I think it was a Nikon D700. Truthfully, I was horrified. The settings were complicated. I didn’t understand what the numbers and letters meant and no matter what I did, the images were a nightmare. I spent months reading through the manual trying to learn how to take a decent picture.

Fast forward to now, I own my own photography business. My business is not my passion or my art, it’s so much more than that. I’ve always believed that the key to creating astonishing imagery has little to do with seeing and more to do with feeling. I believe in holding strong relationships with my clients. So much so that I’ve earned the title of auntie and sister in most cases. I’ve been the one to hold a mother while she’s in labor. I’ve cried as my seniors walk across a stage to receive their high school diploma. I’ve had long conversations with toddlers, talking about everything from boogers to mom and dad. Ive watched a dad cry with every step as he leads his daughter down the isle. I’ve seen the look in his eyes as his bride walks towards him. I’ve asked couples celebrating 50+ years of marriage “whats the key for a long lasting love?” only for them to respond, “don’t go to bed angry at night”. I’ve sat in the back of trucks driving through the mountains, beer in hand on our way to the next location. I’ve let your children color in my tattoos and there have been times where I’m holding one kid on my hip and one on my shoulders just to get a photo of mom and dad alone.

I sit back sometimes and look up to my shelf remembering the days when this all started with a polaroid camera and I feel so very blessed that this life is mine.

My uncle passed away from cancer on July 28th. He was diagnosed almost exactly a year earlier. We were aware of the time frame but something in me wanted to believe that it couldn't take him. He was known to be strong, wild and stubborn so I assumed the cancer didn't have a chance. I realize now that I was in denial. I was in denial up until the day he passed. I didn't realize how over time he had lost weight and his appearance had deteriorated. I had slowly witnessed the cancer take over but I was too numb to see it.

While planning his services, I was asked to carefully construct a photo collage. I spent hours going through old albums. My cousin, his son, brought his family albums for me to review. It was as if I got the chance to see his life again. It began with photos of his childhood. He had a pet lamb. According to my grandmother, he used to walk around with it on a leash. He also rode a unicycle. I knew he rode one because I saw him on one this past Christmas. I guess I didn't realize he had been riding one since he was a kid. I saw his military photos. He traveled the world and eventually met my aunt in Spain. I had the opportunity to travel with him through these photographs. I saw the ocean, giant castles and different countries. I reminisced on our annual Christmas photos. As a child I loved to brush his hair. I had forgotten this. I saw his old blue truck and yes, I remember the time he tried to grow out a mustache. He had plenty of mountain memories documented. He made regular trips to get Christmas trees and he loved riding horses.

But this wasn't enough.

I regret not taking more photos. I regret the times I left my camera at home because this wasn't a "big family event". I wish that I would have followed him around during our family reunion because I wasn't aware that it would be our last. I missed the opportunity to take one last family photo of us before he left due to chemo sickness. I took all the time spent with him for granted.

While I am disappointed in myself, I've also learned a harsh lesson about time. I've learned that the hustle and bustle isn't worth missing out on time spent with those you love. I enjoy those moments I can spend with my mom. I love listening to my grandparents tell me stories I may have already heard. Stopping by for a visit shouldn't be a once a year occurrence. You should be doing it as often as you can.

I realize that now.