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I am our family’s photographer, historian and keeper of visual memories. My camera is as close as one can get to an extension of my hand. It is a tool for capturing moments, for creating a timeline, a legacy, a footprint in time. A tool that has stretched my skills and my desire to learn. The images that are generated are a source of pride.

But, it is a tool that comes with consequences.

Uploading pictures and putting together photo orders, scrapbook pages, digital photo books and our Project Life albums I have to search for evidence that I am a part of my own life. My face rarely appears in our photos. I stand behind the camera documenting special moments and everyday life but, I rarely hand it off to be a part of the resulting images.

True, I’m not generally crazy about photos of myself but, I have this nagging little voice that tells me George will look through our albums and his scrapbook pages one day and say, “Where were you, Mama?” Knife through heart.

So, I am relinquishing the camera. Turning it over to my husband to snap a few shots of us at play, at events, in daily life, at the park on a weekday evening just because.

Thank you to my husband for providing evidence that I was there. A part of our life. Not, just living it through the lens. And doing it brilliantly from his own perspective.

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