we developed a roll of film that we took the first week we were dating. may of 2006.
do you remember that feeling you used to get when you dropped off your disc camera film at the tiny little photo hut and you waited the required three days with so much anxiety as though christmas morning might pop out of the envelopes once you pick them up?
when you get there, you notice that you just spent your allowance (oh, please, who am i kidding? i had a job by that point...) on one or two passable photos and the rest were over/under exposed, out of focus, entirely ridiculous. but you saved them anyway and cut them into bubble shapes, pasted into photo albums because it gave you the proof you needed to remember how much fun you thought you had.
it dawns on my that finn will, most likely, not know what it feels like to snap a photo and say: oohhh, i hope that turns out!
i can't even imagine doing that anymore.
maybe i will buy her an old 35 mm camera to play with. to develop the film. to wait patiently. perhaps even to put the film away in a corner of the house and not pull it out until three (almost four) years later and find something of yourself captured, a glance back into a time when you thought you were invincible. when being in love meant more than anything. when you realized your life would never be the same and you were happier than ever to look your new life directly in the eye and say:
yes, you. i'll take you.