Heather Robinson Photography

when you were in the early days of our life together, you would fall asleep suddenly without me knowing it at first.  i would be holding you in one arm (you were once so tiny) as i walked around the kitchen cooking dinner with my one free hand.  i would feel your body get heavier and look down at you sound asleep.  today i gave you a bath after lunch.  you were sitting in the tub with your back to me.  you let out one weak whimper so i quickly bent over the tub to pick you up and wrap you in a towel.  as i stood up i felt the heaviness.  i leaned your body back into my arms so that i could finally see your face.  your sleeping face.  i was certain you would wake when i placed you on your changing table.  but you continued to sleep even as i dressed you and carried you out to the car to do the school pick up.  it was as if this past year had been merely a dream and you were still my brand new baby who could fall into a deep beautiful sleep no matter where you were.

photo by Heather Robinson     blog | Facebook

today i asked if i could take your photograph with the flowers you gave me for mother’s day.  i ask you now to take your photograph as a sign of my growing respect for your privacy.  you said yes to my request but you did as you have always done over the past seven years.  you looked away.  even when you were a baby and i was just starting out in photography, you made me work to capture your gaze.  and it was never in my direction.  i would make funny sounds at first.  later i began to tell you stories.  and then i just surrendered to the fact that i needed to take photographs of you regardless of whether you were looking away.  i began to take your pictures while you were unaware of me.  today i asked you if you liked being photographed by me.  you said, “yes” looking in my direction for what felt like a millisecond.  not long enough for my shutter speed.  i asked you if you ever felt like i took too many photos.  you looked out the window as if searching outside for the answer.  i know you didn’t want to hurt my feelings so you said, “maybe every once in a while.”  i smiled and asked you if you ever wished that i didn’t take photos of you.  and then your eyes shifted quickly in my direction searching to see my own eyes behind the camera.  i pressed the shutter.  with a sadness in your voice, you said, “but then how would i exist?”   i told you that these photos i take of you will last for a very very long time.  while they are proof of your existence, they are not what makes you exist.   this wasn’t enough for you.  i set my camera down and our eyes met.  you asked me how i would remember that you existed if i never made photos of you.  i told you that if i couldn’t capture you with my camera, i would learn to paint so i could paint you on a canvas, or i would learn to sculpt so i could sculpt a statue of you, or i would use my words to write stories about you.  i would do whatever it took to make sure you would always be remembered.  at this you looked away.  and while i could no longer capture your gaze, i could see the smile that now rested on your lips.  my hand instinctively reached out touching my camera beside me.   then i stopped myself.  now would not become a “maybe every once in while.”  instead, i would paint this memory of you straight onto my heart.