A Story of Inconvenience
Last weekend some friends and I decided last minute to camp in Kenosha Pass. With Autumn's rapid approach we were greeted by rows of golden Aspens with burnt orange accents. The colors appeared to be straight out of a crayon box. The view was spectacular. We were surrounded by mother nature's beautiful artwork, and the sky at night was equally stunning. The next morning as we were getting ready to walk around I noticed my front tire was almost flat. Bummer. After a quick tire change, thanks to my friend Jake, we continued on our jaunt. Within minutes of our walk a bee flew into my hand, stung me, and in turn made me drop my phone. I picked it up to find my screen shattered. I almost cried. The sunny day was now overcast with a black cloud. A flat tire and now my phone. I sulked all the way back to the car, Charlie Brown style. On the drive home I couldn't shake my bad mood. This was NOT how I wanted to spend part of my weekend. Since it was Sunday I knew a lot of tire stores would be closed, but headed to the nearest Firestone. They were busy so I dropped off my tire to come back then headed to a cheap-ish shop to replace my iphone screen. Within a matter of a few hours all were fixed, as if it didn't happen. While frustrating, it was fixable, and in the scheme of things a mere inconvenience rather than a problem. I find most daily complaints are a slight bump not a wall. I try to remind myself of the bigger picture when I am frustrated over minor annoyances.
A couple of weeks ago while on a trip to England my mother learned my Uncle was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, the same disease my granddad suffered, and this was heartbreaking to hear. I'll never forget how difficult it was to see my granddad look at me as if I was a stranger. The memories of us were no longer recognized, and I felt erased. I saw my Uncle last June and my mother tells me it was for the best, as he's now showing signs of the disease. I'm choosing to keep our last visit, and happier times, at the forefront. What he has cannot be mended in hours unlike my recent frustrations. I'll let this serve as a gentle reminder when I come across a minor roadblock. I don't want to waste time brooding over a situation I can change, though this undoubtedly takes practice. It's also made me look a little deeper into my hobbies, and cherish my photographs even more. Each one may be a pretty landscape, but also (hopefully) how I felt when I captured it. Hidden beneath the scenery is a memory, and even if it's one I cannot later recall, it's a visual which can still resonate. I'll keep pointing and clicking leaving pieces of myself in every frame.