Take a Picture

Art to me is anything evokes an emotional response from the viewer. Something that makes them think. That being said, I'm transfixed and transported. I'm peering at a painting of children and adults playing in a city pool. My periphery blurs and fades. My surroundings literally change. I am no longer in a museum, but rather my childhood swimming pool. A dry , desolate place until my twenty first year of life. Though it's a blazing summer day, it remains empty. I can see the black tile crosses near the deep end. My eyes want to stay, but my feet have something else in mind. They lead me on a path. It twists around an old oak tree. The tree is much wider and greener than I had realized. I walk high into the air. To a tree house village. I'm so high above the ground that everything below seems like a model town. It's a marvelous sight. The only thing missing is Olivia. I dial her on my cell. It goes straight to voicemail. That's a shame. I really wish she were here, but I notice I have a camera strapped to my side. If she can't be here, at least I can snap a picture for her. What should I take a picture of? There are some people walking around. That's never been my thing. Don't get me wrong, some people are photogenic and their faces reveal interesting stories. It's just personally never been what I wanted to focus on. Plus it seems odd handing her a photo of a random passer by. So, I'm going with inanimate objects. They can't be too stylistically done because that would be off putting. Where to start? The bridge connecting my tree house with the adjacent one? Yes, that will work. The bridge is reminiscent of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Except there are no man eating crocodiles beneath me, and no one trying to rip out my heart behind me. It's safe. Or at least as safe as this type of bridge could be. I will say, my perfectionism rushes in at the worst possible moments. I start out at the middle of the bridge, thinking it is the best spot. The bridge sways, causing my hands to tremble. I relocate at the other end. There are some more problems. Branches block my shot. On my 8mm camera, I have approximately twelve pictures left. I could haphazardly take shots, but I want each and every one to be gold. Feeling overwhelmed by my apparent inadequacy to take a decent picture, I give up. Wanting a change of scenery, I start to make my way to the tree house flower shop. It's there that I find my Citizen Kane, my perfect picture. I plant my feet firmly on the ground, adjust the focus, and take the shot. The flash goes off. I lower the camera. To my amazement I just took a picture of a closed screen door.