I captured the best image I have ever captured tonight, but you will never see it.
At the end of another brutally long work day, I grabbed my camera and headed out the door for a few minutes of fresh air before the sun went down. The truth is, I don’t have the energy left after life ravages me each day to create anything. But because I refuse to stop fighting I went searching for something beautiful anyway. Anything beautiful in a life that is otherwise. And I found it.
As the sun dipped over the Village it left colors frolicking in some of the strangest clouds I have ever seen. Yellows and corals in contrast to blue. And the water in the Erie Canal was completely still mirroring reflections of these queer billows lined up with straight edges but themselves emotional and disorganized. Even the power lines were vying for attention in this moment. In fact, they were what caused me to stop in the first place. The sun bounced off their surface in bold lines that looked like Crayola Brick Red with a touch of Razzmatazz. It was clear that those man-made mutants were arm wrestling with Mother Nature’s vanity in that moment with the possibility that they might actually win. And the monsoon rains of late caused the heavy green grass to mushroom over the top of the edging put there for the sole purpose of keeping it in. The blades screamed “wriggle your toes here”…and some people were. And the simple rule of thirds gently led me to frame the quiet, ever-present smokestack of the American Can Company that nobody really notices here, but none could live without. It was insanely beautiful. And I captured it. But, you will never see it.
In my haste to gather one gulp of freedom for me today I forgot that my camera was without a memory card in it. Those were on my desk at home; one in each PC. And the spares in the bag I rarely touch any more. I have been shooting for others lately; but this one was for me. Evidence that I can create. Evidence that I am alive. Evidence. But the sun doesn’t wait for anybody. And the day will retire with or without my creation. So, I snapped it. And with a degree of unnecessary cruelty my camera held that image but refused to save it anywhere. And now you will never see it.
By the time I got back to the car with my temporary creation the meaning was stifling. I am full of creativity that is never seen. And the ideas and images that swirl with fury through my person may very well crush my heart and my spirit soon because there is no outlet for them.
I want so much to be more than invisible. But, then again, maybe you will never —