so he can see what he used to look at

so he can see what he used to look at

May 22, 2025

He waves at the air,
like he is rehearsing.
Tuning the gesture
for someone passing by.
And when they do,
he waves,
smiles,
then bashfully rests his head on my shoulder.

Never fails.

I brought my camera on our evening walk.
I wanted to take pictures of the things he looks at with purpose.
He did not look at me for answers.
He took it all in,
quietly,
and processed it on his own.

He stared at people the longest.
I did not take pictures of them.

I fed him pieces of pretzel bread as we walked,
one of his favorites
in the short ten months he has been alive.

Walking is another.
He loathes the seven hundred some odd square feet we live in.
I get it.
The world is wider,
and all of it is interesting to him.
Which means it is interesting to me.
Even as a photographer.

Everything feels new again.
The trees.
The birds.
Even the light.

So I brought my Nikon Z8.
Since I started carrying him on our walks,
I think I have only done it once.

Maybe I will do it more often,
so he can see what he used to look at.


see the photographs from our walk