The Gift

A couple of days ago I received the gift of a lifetime. It arrived as all our mail does, weary from the long journey and looking a bit like the underdog after a schoolyard scuffle. Though I knew as soon as I lifted it off the shelf that there was nothing normal about what I was holding. Confirmation to that theory came as soon as I walked back outside. Maggie let loose a grin that defines love and a twinkling of eyes that revealed what I now understand to be layers upon layers of excited planning.
History is no stranger to the “one look” story line. You know the ones. Relationships are built upon them: “oh I just knew the moment I laid eyes on him”, or “one look man, and I knew”, ect ect ect, right on down the line. If you don’t believe me, go rent “When Harry Met Sally”. But for the sake of this story’s fluidity I am going to ask you set aside your skepticism and just believe. Let’s see, where was I?…Oh right, the grin.
For you to truly grasp that grin I must take you back a few months. You see, the idea for this present came on one of those one of a kind days. Our wake up call that morning was the rumble of engines eager to put motion to a day only consistent to any other on this Sound - a place where the Tasman Sea enters Fjordland National Park New Zealand, and is met with a landscape so unique and dramatic that Caption Cook named it Doubtful. As if our excitement was not enough to roust us from our bunks, the deal was sweetened when our caption’s voice came over the PA promising penguins. Night people became morning people, and all filed up on to the main deck clutching their cameras and hoping for flightless birds. Coffee was ready but ignored as people’s eyes adjusted to this maritime marvel. It was shortly thereafter that we met Chris. For me Chris stood out on this deck of point and shooters solely because he wasn’t. His hands were steady and his eyes were fixed down through the viewfinder resting motionless against his belly. He was calm amongst the flutter, shifting slightly with what seemed to be habitual motions. Then click, the shutter closed with a loud sound unmistakably exclusive to a Hasselblad. Quite simply put, I lit up and Maggie took notice. The three of us talked for the better part of the ride out to the sea, stopping periodically to ogle over the world’s largest and smallest dolphins, to take pictures, to enjoy our surroundings, but mostly we just enjoyed swapping stories with our eccentric new friend. In my memory, that day stands out as one of the highlights from our honeymoon, and Chris and I are still exchanging emails. It is clear to me now as my inspired fingers type away, that Maggie’s attention briefly strayed from Fjordland’s splendor that day in order plant a seed. A seed that was clearly in bloom two days ago as our car twisted its way back toward our borrowed coastal home. Maggs held the box on her squirmy lap, but could not hold her excitement much past the threshold of the house before she flung open the blinds, handed me my knife, and gave me permission to start my birthday a week early. With a combination of really wanting to see what was inside, and not at all wanting to see what would happen if Maggie had to wait another week, I obliged. I traced my knife around the seams of the box and opened it to find a Hasselblad medium format camera. I think I felt my heart skip a beat. I know Maggie’s skipped a couple. As I mentioned before, this was the gift of a lifetime. It is exciting to know this camera will be a part of years of documented memories. But for me the gift was that grin and everything behind it.