MUSINGS FROM THE MIND OF AMANDA

I’m an amateur photographer. I love stalking birds and watching turtles and finding alligators and snapping photos. I’ve been known to pull over on the side of the road because I saw a butterfly in the weeds in the ditch. I’ve walked miles and miles chasing dragonflies. I sneak pics of my son whenever he’ll sit still. I get pics of my husband…in the boat, across the table, or just wandering around.

But who takes photos of me?

It’s a little morbid, I guess, but since photographs became such a huge part of funeral services (here at least), I’ve often thought about how my service will have baby pics, graduation pics, and then nine photos over forty years that I took myself with my cell phone. And I think maybe that’s ok.

I’ve decided I’m going to instruct them to show the photographs I took…family pics, or pics from the boat or walking trips or vacations. That’s who I really am. I’m the girl who loves gators, and cheers when we find one. I’m the crazy fat lady chasing one particular dragonfly till I get the photo I want. I’m the weirdo stalking butterflies through knee deep grass because there are flowers on the other side of the grass. And I will forever be the girl who gets excited by herons and eagles.

That’s what I want people to remember. The fun, silly girl who was always chasing the next great shot. Not the fat old lady with three chins (all covered in hair) who sat on the porch and screamed for the kids to get off her lawn. (Although I may be that woman, too).

Maybe I just want to be remembered as the picture I have in my head, and not the one on paper.