When my camera refused to turn on, I counted back and realized it was eight years old. Digital cameras age quicker than big dogs, so that's not a bad run. Time for a zippy new model. I laid the old one to rest in the junk drawer and when Big A found it a few months later, there seemed no harm in letting her play with it. Surprisingly, it revved back to life when she hit the power button. So now it is Big A's camera (at least until she drops it on the sidewalk and kills it permanently).
Big A is not interested in learning how to frame a shot or work the flash. She just clicks away excitedly at whatever she likes. I find her photographs fascinating. Somehow they remind me of the smallness of her body in a way that the bigness of her personality sometimes makes me forget.
Do you remember the time when the world of your hallway and bedroom and pillows and sidewalk and street seemed so wide open and so huge?