Musings on: Photo sessions
Yesterday was our engagement photo session.
We've been engaged six months. (83 days to go)
Had we taken engagement photos in February, just days after he popped the question and I eagerly said yes, we dare to presume that they would not have been hardly as enjoyable.
Organized photography is more often than not a pressure cooker of emotion. You know exactly what I'm talking about.
I think back to 1990s Jeff and Dawn Brickhouse doing dances and silly faces in the front yard, wielding disposable 35mm cameras, while my two little brothers and I stared at them blankly in matching Christmas sweaters, combed hair and scrubbed faces, thoroughly unamused. No doubt one of us had experienced a complete meltdown moments prior - our handful of years on the earth unraveling before our eyes as we were forced to sit on the front steps and smile for a Christmas card that probably wouldn't be sent until February.
I hold a cheeky sort of nostalgia - which was not funny at all at the time - for the horror stories behind posed pictures that line the halls of my parents' house.
I walk past the one at the beach when I was in high school, the three of us in white shirts and jeans (typical Gulf Coast 2007). Totally had a fight on the way.
That one tree at my grandparents' house that was the "picture tree." (I know you have one, too.) "Do that goofy smile one more time and you're getting a spanking."
Death threats. So many death threats went into the half-smiling, traumatized, unwillingly-bathed children awkwardly posed in pictures that fill our albums and grace our shelves.
For Luke and me, I look forward to seeing how photography plays a part in our memories.