On a cold winter’s day in Alabama about 11 years ago, as I watched with awe an image appear in a tray filled with developer, a friend told me that I would never be able to take photos or be a photographer because I was too uptight and controlled. I instinctively took that as a challenge and set off to prove said friend wrong. For 11 years, I’ve been taking photos of anything and everything, at every opportunity. However, there was one time I missed an opportunity that I will never forget.
In April of 2006, we were visiting New York City. We were bundled in layers of warm clothing as the city had experienced a cold snap that spring. We had been in downtown Manhattan for the day and were returning to our hotel on the A train, or it could have been the B, C or D train, I don’t recall; the subway is a confusing place for southerners, at least for this southerner. If you have ever been on the subway, you know there are many, many stops with the doors opening and closing constantly.
At one of those stops, the doors opened and there sat an elderly woman on a bench with a little girl at her feet. The woman was unkempt, wearing a brown tattered coat, with an equally tattered scarf on her head. She had on thick, flesh-colored knee highs, you know, the ones the elderly women wear for support. On her feet were black orthopedic-style shoes, scuffed and worn. Her face was lined with age; the years appeared to have taken a hard toll on her. The little girl was around 5, I would guess, and she was crying, tears streaking her dirt-smudged face. She didn’t want to leave the city or possibly go to the city; I am unsure as to which direction they were headed. The child’s coat was worn and dull, like that of her grandmother (I imagined it was her grandmother).
Sitting next to the girl was a bag, which appeared to be filled with groceries. I saw a loaf of French bread sticking out of the top. But the thing that caught my eye most of all, was the package in the old woman’s lap. It was a simple bunch of daisies, wrapped in brown paper. The yellow petals were a stark contrast sitting against the dismal color of the woman’s worn and tattered coat. A promising sign of spring….of life….of hope. And where was my camera? Back at our hotel, in our room, in my bag, tucked safely away from would be thieves that I might possibly encounter on the streets of New York City. Although that particular moment in time was never captured to be printed, the image is as vivid in my mind today as it was 3 years ago….when I missed my opportunity.
Missed opportunities. Life-changing moments. Our lives are littered with them. I suppose the important thing is to learn something from those missed chances and make every effort to never let what could be a life-altering opportunity pass you by. To this day, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had been brave enough to take my camera downtown, step off the subway and speak to the woman and little girl. To ask to take their photo. Could that opportunity have altered my photography path, forever catapulting me into a world in which I would love to be a part of? Could a photo of an elderly woman carrying daisies along side a little girl with a dirt-smudged, tear-streaked face, sitting on a subway platform bench have altered their lives in any way? I will never know.
