Ten years ago, I stayed inside for the whole spring. From March 16 until May 22nd, I was confined to our one bedroom apartment, only allowed out for doctor's visits and trips to the hospital. I was on bedrest with twins. I spent hours laying on my left side, watching bad daytime tv, trying to put together a nursery with our glacially-paced dial-up internet connection and drinking water, water, water. I would move my enormous belly to the shower (my big event of the day) and then strapped a belt around my 60 inch waist to monitor any contractions. The story had a beautiful ending though: two boys born just a few days shy of their due dates, weighing in at 6lb2oz and 5lbs 14ozs, but it was a long final chapter.
The next year, spring could not come soon enough. I couldn't stop singing while pushing my double stroller around our hilly Manhattan neighborhood when that spring finally came. So much had changed that year. I became a mother, quit working, renovated an apartment and survived a post-surgical infection that landed me right back in the hospital. We had moved from that one bedroom in the village to a classic six in the upper west side -- we couldn't even fit two cribs in our old place. But most of all, I survived a winter with two babies under one. It's all still a little blurry, but man, I so needed that spring.
Ever since then, spring has filled me with joy and I never let it slip by, unnoticed like I used to. I've been feeling strange this year though, since I've been without my camera for a few weeks. Strange that the spring has gone undocumented. The trees are shifting from those gorgeous blossoms to bright little leaves. Our view down the hill changes daily, filling in like a pointillist painting.
I realized though, how very much I love taking pictures, and framing the world through my lens. Small in the grand scheme of life, but important for me to have my touchstones I suppose, and appreciated all the more when I have them again.