I had business in the Czech Republic and managed to slip away from the group for a few minutes after dinner to ring the setts and lose myself in the narrow streets. I found the Church of St. Maurice, bathed as it was in artificial light, set dramatically against the last bit of twilight. I snapped a photograph or two, turned on my heels and headed back to the hotel.
Three Junes ago I took my last photograph as a native of California on Marshall Beach, the Golden Gate Bridge glowing in the distance and bathed in fog, a brilliant counterpoint to the moody blues of the Pacific that lapped at my feet.
We left California with a heart heavy for friends, forests, mountains, and coastlines left behind but happy for family, friends, and new adventures in the midwest. It is now that we reverse those fortunes and, though we are greatly saddened to separate once again from family, prepare for another chapter on the west coast.
By the time a full three years has passed from the moment the shutter closed on the photograph above, we will reside again in California, having rented a home in San Francisco. The past 36 months have passed in the blink of an eye, yet it is incredible just how much has transpired.
Time flies. It wasn't long ago my wife and I were overjoyed to announce the birth of our first son, Oliver. He turned 4 yesterday and I took the day off to spend it with him. The truth is, it won't be long until he's 14, and these magic days are passed.
I remember on my 10th birthday my father explained to me that the next 10 years would feel like a lifetime, the decade after that like half a lifetime, and so on until the half life of perspective makes the days whizz past. This is one of the strange truths of human existence: that time is relative and the more we cherish it, the faster it runs away.
Here's to joy while it's in our hands.
Somewhere on the fringe of Oregon, the trees are still there, always and never the same as when we passed them on the roadside this last November. The fog was dense and the ground was slick. I wonder what weather they face at the moment and what it would be like to walk amongst the ferns again.
Back on the road for work. I haven't left just yet and I'm already missing the family. Here's a large-format film photograph of Val and Henry from our time on the Oregon coast this fall.
God I love film. I know it's just a bit of gelatin and chemicals but for Henry, when he is going grey, it will be a time machine to whisk him back to when the air was cold and the light was golden and his mother could hold him in her arms.