
The door closes. The last guest backs down the driveway. The lights are switched off.
The photo album sits on the table, the sales receipt between the pages. Images of joy and laughter, garden tours, dinner celebrations and dancing, all remind us of happy times.
Yet a moment is only lived once, and photos are a thin line of smoke after a fire. Memories come with silent tears and a stinging in the throat.
After a wedding, hundreds of photos are viewed, edited, cropped, saved, moved, copied and ordered. Production methodically moves to completion, yet one photo still tugs at the heart.
It is an image of a moment when all things seemed possible, like wildflowers in early spring, emerging from their shared tangle of roots to greet one another under the warming sun.