Мне очень тяжело дался этот пост, как и сам опыт. Этому человек я так напрямую и не написала, потому что считаю, что ему это неинтересно. Вышло как вышло. Я выговорилась, мне это было важно.
It is quite a common situation in many families for a woman to be the story keeper: she is the one who captures memorable moments and places, the one who initiates family photo shoots, and, understandably, the one who grows frustrated when other family members don’t cooperate because they simply don’t care. She is also the one who keeps, sorts, arranges, and prints these photographs. It is a chore, even when it doesn’t look like one - an invisible, unpaid kind of labor that is rarely appreciated while the woman is alive.
That’s been true for my mother, and it is true for many other mothers.
This is why I find it hard to put into words how happy I am with Chris and his love of photography: his attentiveness to detail, his willingness to sit for hours sorting and editing images. Because of his passion, I am free to frolic and wander without the constant itch to take a hundred photos while traveling. I get to seize the moment, to linger and contemplate, without worrying about failing to capture the things that quietly draw my eye.
And sometimes I do get a little ratty when Chris wants to take a picture of me. In those moments, I remind myself that it brings him joy - and that the least I can do is be patient and grateful that I have such a person, an archivist, so to speak, by my side.
