A Big-Girl Camera

Approximately five feet away from me, atop my dresser, is a toy. An expensive electronic toy. A big-girl camera.

I bought a big-girl camera; a D-SLR. A Canon T2i.

I'm a proud mother.

A proud mother in shock. After I made the hefty purchase, I clutched the steering wheel as I drove to our next destination. A blank stare glazed my eyes as I tried to focus on the 70-mile-an-hour Interstate traffic. "I...just...bought...a camera. I bought a...I bought." I tried again. "I bought a camera." My head titled to the left, my brow furrowed. My mouth twitched in disbelief. I continued to sputter, spit and stutter. "I bought...I boug--I bought." A brief pause. "A camera." Hans laughed, smiled, congratulated me on my purchase.

That yesterday; I didn't even open the package until today. As I peeled open the bubble wrap, I delicately traced the LCD screen. My fingers ran over the lens, pinching it into focus. My own D-SLR. I have yet to really try it out. I have only snapped about 15 pictures so far. The first picture I took was of Hans, sitting on the floor in his pajamas, making last minute alterations and updates to my computer.

Later, I took photos of the empty corner where his luggage sat for two weeks.

I miss him already. I may have a new toy, but said toy cannot love me. I can cradle it within my hands, protect it, treasure it, save it from a household fire--but it will not and cannot love me back. So, instead, I used it take a photo of something ... someone ... who offers me more than megapixel memories; he gives me the sentiments that even candid photos fall short of capturing.

And, for the record, the T2i comes in a wicked-looking box (which, I assume, is standard to the Rebel models). It's pitch-black, the bolded red letters spelling R-E-B-E-L like a literate blood-stain. It's a bad-ass box.

I still can't believe I bought it, finally, after a year and a half...


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