I carried it with me as if it was another appendage on my body. It was with me when we rode past the Boston Marathon and through the quaint hills decorated with cobblestone streets and lanterns that spoke of an older world. It was with me as I licked my chocolate filled ice cream cone…it was obnoxiously with me as I attempted to embrace friends and family, resulting in a camera bag sandwich. And there my camera remained, in it’s bag. A few picture-less days passed and Matt asked me why I wasn’t taking pictures. I just shrugged and continued walking with it by my side. Occasionally, he would suggest for me to pull out my camera, but it just didn’t feel like every other day. If it had been every other day, I would have photographed breakfast with my best friend and my unusual order of oatmeal, I would have captured Matt and his best friend from childhood playing catch with a very encouraged stranger at the park. I would have photographed moments of laugher as if none of us had ever been apart.
But, on those days, I just wanted to walk, to laugh, to take joy in just being there. Funny thing is… that my eyes were taking pictures the entire time.