so i have lost my camera
i really think it may have been taken at taste of newton…
a wonderful event…you can even see me here while i still had it…
i had it for a while and the last time i remember
having it, it was in the top of our stroller…
ready for the taking…if that is the case,
may the one who has it experience a kind of
resolve that makes it okay and whole.
so now i live without a camera
it has consumed my spirit and mind
i have looked and looked and looked
and i really think it is gone
so i could take this as an opportunity
to see life without a lens
to simply be in the moment
not looking for my camera
so i can remember it better.
but i take those pictures
to have tangible reminders
of all that i know is good
when i was at taste of newton
it wasn’t fun (so disappointing!)
i was being pawed on and begged
for cotton candy and sno cones
i was irritable and tired
but the photos i took
were so good
i knew as i was taking them
that i was capturing
what was good about the evening
maybe i will find my camera
and find those reminders
of the goodness
of course i still carry
it all in my heart,
i just long to see
what i am carrying…
and this i realize…
is why i blog.
prairie daze 
I feel sick at the thought of losing a camera! I hope you don’t wait as long as Ang to replace it if you can’t find it!!!
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I will miss seeing the beauty you are able to capture so well, even if it’s just for a short time until you replace the camera.
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Please, let the camera simply be lost in a bag.
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i love the way you’ve reflected on the loss. it is an opportunity to see the world differently – i struggle hard with the tension between being in a moment and capturing a moment with the camera.
may your acceptance of the loss come easily and a replacement camera come quickly!
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That is why I blog too. Your words hit close to home.
We lost our camera once, actually we’re 99% sure it was taken by a babysitter. Can you imagine that? I guess she needed it more than we did and that’s ok.
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You have a great attitude, but how sad that someone has to resort to thievery. I agree – I hope it’s just lost.
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Hey Kristin,
Maybe there’s a limit to this, as there is to most everything, but still, it seems to me that there is great value in being focused and consistently committed to extracting as much meaning from life as is feasibly possible. Doing so requires the discipline of looking, of registering, of taking note, of seeing, of recording, of committing to memory, of all such stuff. “Camera work” is such work, or at least can be if that’s the effort! Your work with the camera does all of that. Your work with the camera is holy work. In my eye, and I think so not just because I’m your father, your work with the camera is art. Art of the best kind: emotionally honest, intellectually luring, philosophically reflective… I could go on. If you don’t replace your camera, I will be sad. Can I help? Let’s talk.
I love you.
Dad
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oh no… i do hope you find your camera! these blog photographs really are a way (for me and it sounds like you too) of etching these little memories we write in stone.
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First, perfectly said. Perfectly.
Second, I so hope you find your camarea. As much for your sake as my own. I love your words, but I also very much love their soulemate – your images.
Third – Your Dad… I see where you get your beautiful heart and mind :-)
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oh…i am crying for you now. that is so awful.
i assume you’ve asked eliza if she knows where it is? annie likes to “play” with our things and not put them back. especially ‘green money’ (as she calls it) i found my keys once 3 months later inside snow boots.
i felt the same at taste of newton & had a meltdown in the car on the way home. the kids, crowd and wind were not a good mix.
i hope you find it.
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