There was a time when point and shoot cameras proved cumbersome to access. They were seldom within reach to capture the lovely cardinal that briefly rested on a nearby branch or the puckered face of a toddler’s first taste of a lemon wedge. Smartphones have changed the way we experience life. They’ve become extensions of our hands, ears, and eyes. We maneuver our fingers deftly when we navigate this appendage and trained our eyes to shift rapidly so that not only do our brains capture a significant moment, so does our smartphone. Then, we fill cyberspace with these instantaneous images.
White dress shimmered in soft candlelight. The virgin bride presented herself in front of the altar with pure heart. She held a bouquet of gardenias, symbol of purity, refinement, love. Lofty ideas of a life filled with tea parties and social dinners played in her head. And love? Her heart skipped beats in his presence, mostly when they held hands. She was ready. Married life showed a different hand. Innocent love died on their honeymoon when drugs sat front and center. He remained incapable of consummating their sacred bond. The one saving grace, an annulment was within reach.
Mom lived in the Northeast for over 40 years and indulged in summer gardening. Now back home, exotic orchids adorn her lush garden. Lizards camp out between twigs. Coquis hide beneath leaves. Butterflies flit about. Each room boasts fresh cut flowers. Produce rests on countertops. She peels and chops the fruit of her labor. Her kitchen smells of homemade, home grown.
The older I get, the more I become like her, except for that green thumb. My plants suffer from too much water, too little water, too much sun exposure, not enough. Perhaps I too should live in the island.