The house went quiet. My Husband had left for work. There was no camera talk and no photographic debate.
I had specially laid in bed longer to hear his new idea as it babbled forth from the bathroom with tones of early morning excitement.
“A new camera,” and with that announcement his earplugs went in and he skipped over the step into the shower.
This was my three minute break to organise my thoughts, hopes and dreams for my day.
“I’m excited,” he was back with all the thrills of a wet dog.
This was our first year of marriage. His parents had warned me that photography is the language he speaks, his mother tongue. I tried to do a quick tally of the cameras in our home and ran out of fingers soon. Besides ten is already a ridiculous number of cameras to have for any practical reason.
My Husband sinks into guilt over the amount of cameras he collects compared with the number of photo’s he takes which he feels is never enough. I’ve assured him he is a camera collector as well as a photographer.
Art and design are my choice of life long study and practise. I therefore have and understanding of photography’s place in the visual world. There is a place in my husbands heart, however that I do not comprehend. There tucked in his chest is a fully functional new and used cameras shop haunted by all walks of the photographic plain. There are famous photographers, photojournalists and untidy unkept students who live on the scent of darkroom chemicals. The old master photographer looks with all seeing eyes who’s pupils seem to flick as they capture snapshots constantly. Cameras salesmen of knowledge, practise and calibre man the counters. There are Nikonians (die hard Nikon users). This is where I roll my eyes as it is all Starship Enterprise to me.
This Heart chamber is modeled after the place of his Saturday job. It’s his photographic think thank that supplies him with photo fuel for the week. Saturdays are his chance to get behind the counter and converse in his native tongue. Stray alphabet and numerals make up a lot of it, “f stop”, “30 D”, “40 D” and “k 10 D” are just some I heard this morning.
I have become a lot more accepting of this camera and all associated gadgets shop, since I realised that My Love carries it around with him always. To me a light warm flame starts in my heart as I watch him care and nurture his passion and when he bewails it as he can see my desperation for any other kind of conversation. He is a little boy in his own world where possibilities are endless and friends abundant. How can I not join in the fun?