When Mama got sick, everything changed. In an instant, she went from being the caretaker of my children to needing care herself. Over the summer, she improved, but each doctor's visit reminded us that this improvement was tenuous. In the anticipation of grief, I remained fearful of what would come next. My resistance to hope became a shield in my effort to protect myself from pain.
During this time, I took my camera to places where I expected to find peace and renewed faith, yet I approached them with the same caution I was using to protect myself from heartache. If I encountered beauty, I held it at arm’s length. I never found the reassurance I was looking for, because I never truly doubted the world’s capacity for beauty. What I doubted was my ability to remain open to it and let it in.