First I have to say, Happy Anniversary to Me and Dan. 3 years. We’re going out to dinner tonight. (Beats our last two celebrations; colonoscopy prep and spending the day in an airplane.) Being Saturday, we each have our own little things to do that bring us joy in the morning hours. He typically wakes early and takes the dogs for a hike up the mountain behind our house. High peak. I sleep in and sometimes stay in bed, reading, writing and resting. But today, I had a ticket to a women’s competitive dive event. So, I roused myself and made it over to UCLA to check it out.
Going on my own, I managed to snag a good seat. What a show. Such gorgeous bodies in complete command, flying off the platform, bending, twisting, rolling into the water. Watching was a mix of euphoria and stress. To see a successful dive is to breath a sigh of wonder. The stress comes as they waver at the top and edge of the platform. Either facing backwards, or upside down, they have to spring up and away from the concrete edge, and I worry they won’t clear it. But they always do.
To my title, I was trying to take a picture just as a souvenir of such a satisfying event. The first one I took captured a guy perfectly horizontal, even with the platform. The perfect picture, from my cell phone, which almost never takes perfect pictures when you want it to. But, I couldn’t save it because I didn’t have enough memory. (oh Iphone, I’m comin to get ya). And I knew that I’d never be serendipidously lucky enough to get another pic just as good.
I spent the first few rounds trying. Sometimes the divers weren’t even in the frame by the time the shutter clicked. Other times I just got feet, or arms, or blur. I realized, I was trying so hard to capture the perfect image, that i was about to miss the whole show. So I put my phone in my bag and watched.
Take a picture. It lasts longer. Not always.
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