The Photo I Didn’t Take (But Still Remember)
There’s a strange kind of beauty in the photos we never get to take. The ones we plan for, chase down, and almost capture — but something stops us. This is one of those stories.
These past few weeks have been a grind. In my line of work, the arrival of warmer weather means one thing: long hours, tighter deadlines, and a whole lot of stress. It’s construction season — and that means the next five or six months will be hectic.
In the past, especially during my divorce, I used to throw myself into work to escape everything else. It was a form of isolation — a way to shut out pain I didn’t want to deal with. But years later, with time, therapy, and a little healing, I’ve learned how to manage stress more intentionally. That growth showed up recently, unexpectedly, on a landscape photo walk.
I was about a quarter-mile into my hike along the river when I spotted it — the perfect scene. Tall grass swaying in the breeze, golden sunlight casting long shadows, and a stillness in the water that looked like glass. I set up quickly, eager to get the shot before the light faded.
Then the wind picked up.
At first, I wasn’t too worried. My tripod could handle some shake, and my gear is pretty good at compensating for movement. But the gusts kept building, and the tall grass — once beautifully still — now danced wildly across my frame. I tried to adapt, adjusting my composition, waiting for a break in the breeze.
But the light was fading.
And just like that, the shot was gone.
I felt the frustration creep in — not just at missing the photo, but at everything leading up to it: the drive, the planning, the mental load from a tough week at work. But then something shifted. I stopped fiddling with settings and just... looked.
The grass waved like a living sea. The river lapped at the shoreline. Birds flew overhead in soft arcs. And I realized something: I didn’t need to press the shutter button to feel connected to this moment. This — this breath of space between chaos and calm — was the photo I came here for.
Sometimes, the best photographs are the ones we experience fully, even if we never take them.