Shafts of crisp autumnal morning light twinkled through the park's golden hued trees. We owned the place--just us. Jared and Emma laughed and giggled as I pushed them around and around the merry-go-round. Their rosy cheeks and twinkly eyes almost burst my heart. Fall smells of crunchy leaves and moist dirt filled the air and my soul. And their sweaters--they even had sweaters on-just added to the perfectness of the moment. If I were an editor for some elite urbanized country magazine, this scene would have graced the cover. But, as usual, I didn't have my camera. And if I had, the batteries would have been dead or the memory card full. Ah, well.
A wise man once said (on more than one occassion) that he just took pictures with his heart. The sacred recesses of our hearts are the best places for perfect moments--moments of eternity-- like the way your new husband's scrubbed hands look on the alter of the temple or the quite hush of hospital rooms with a brand new baby.
Fancy magazines--you can keep your perfectly created moments for your covers, and I'll keep those special ones that just happen--safe in my heart.
