Bridget, a woman in her 80s grasped her camera tightly, the worn leather creaking in her hands. She had held it for decades, and it was already a part of her. She had embraced her passion as a photographer when she was 16 and specialized in headshots, capturing moments of joy, sadness, love , and pain.
As she raised the camera to her eyes, she felt the weight of the past bearing down upon her. She dropped it down a little and watched the children whose laughter filled the air, it reminded her of Greg, her son and Fred, her husband. She was already familiar with their laughter, and she often ensured to capture that moment of laughter and love. Her mind wandered to her late husband who had given her that camera on her 30th birthday. "Let me be the first you capture" he had demanded. She flipped the camera and there was the name she had written on it.
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As the sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm orange glow. Bridget's thought turned to the environment she was once capturing. It wasn't as interesting as capturing people's emotions but it saved her the ache she felt each time she captured people's pain and despair, it was a memory that kept haunting her since the death of her husband.
But then something caught her eyes, a young couple, hand in hand walking down the street. She raised the camera and clicked the shutter. Watching the couple disappear in the distance made Bridget realize that memories weren't just about the past, they were also about the present and future. With a renewed hope, Bridget stood, eyes shining. She would continue to capture life, she told herself . I'll capture life to preserve moments and to tell their stories. For in the lens of her camera, she saw not just memories but hope. She smiled and raised her camera again, this time to capture emotions from people who were present in the field.