Perfection

I take the worst pictures sometimes.  Occasionally,  I look back and grimace or someone will bemoan my terrible choice of background. I never took a photography or composition class.  I cannot define color,  hue, or tone accurately.  My photos will never look like a portrait.  It will look like I pointed and clicked. 

And that is okay. 

I'm not out to win awards,  get published,  purchased, or amaze anyone. I take pictures to remember.  

Remember when we made braids together and our hands are doughy and the butter in the pan hardened before we got the dough to it?  Remember how Annie smooshed every ball of dough, only to put it back and get another one? Or the last one she picked up, she tore into ten balls of dough ordered according to size?  Remember how proud John was of his longest dough braid and Sam of his longest?   Remember how many pans we filled?  It was the best part of going to church at 9. I got to do this with you. 

Remember how we saw the head of Mt Timpanogos pillowed by a cloud today.  And mom couldn't snap the picture fast enough?  We listened to the music from Moana all the way to the museum and back again.  Remember the four hours of museums we saw and lunch in the car in between?  Remember we watched the movie Casper together and we wondered where dad went and mom was annoyed there was so much cursing. Remember the caramel apples we shared and the super marshmallow.  

I may never take a great photo.  All I really want is a great memory.