Sunday, March 11, 2012

Amelia

It's not terribly uncommon,
but still surprises me every time
that sometimes, okay, most of the time,
I spend a morning, an afternoon, dusk hours with a subject,
watching them through the lens,
learning about their life, their loves,
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I promise them pictures within a few weeks, knowing I've got so much I need to be juggling,
but then
I get home,
play my music,
scroll through the frames,
and
it takes over,
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I'm captured.
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The beauty is beyond enthralling.
Sometimes,
it's a baby's just enough of a forehead wrinkle, curve of curiosity, glint of mischief just born.
Or,
sometimes, it's a breath between two, a slant of the spine, hint of their desire, their passion, their own unique way.
Maybe,
it's a quiet moment, I press the shutter button and catch the tranquility,
Often,
it's an in-between chance, a laugh, a sigh, something's there for just a second, and then it's gone, except discovered when I get home, in love with what I've found.

It's what happened with this gal.
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She rode the train in through Missouri hills for our shoot this past weekend.
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She's been through a lot in just eighteen years,
her life, already, has been so full of gloriously crowned mountaintop peaks,
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and unforeseen, dark, devastations of valleys,
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more than many ever journey through in a lifetime.
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But, see, she's chosen a way of beauty, a way of triumph; she's chosen to blossom,
she shines.

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Like my Grandma B says, while pinching and rolling and kneading her homemade rolls and shooing a wayward barn cat,
"Cream always rises to the top."

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The sky blues for her, her work paves her gravel country road,
And Amelia, she's risen, she rises.

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