The spring has brought a bit more sun, a bit more warmth, and most significantly for me, a bit more time to resume work on my thesis. With my teaching duties winding down in my first semester at Nazareth, I have begun to get back to the work that has been at the center of my creative energies for over a year now. 

It's hard to believe that it was last spring that I began this journey, taking me to new territory that has moved and captivated me. I often obsess over the details of shooting, at times working myself into a frenzy, worrying about all that could go wrong, as things often do. But as one artist once so aptly put it, the dog that never leaves the porch gets no bones. How true that is. So, I must press on, without fear of failure.

One of the joys beyond being in the thick of documenting some things that many people never witness, is the process of looking at what my camera has captured. When I'm out there, I'm in a different zone, acting on instincts, and at times adrenaline. I'm not always taking it in fully. The lens and the viewfinder, and all the electronics and optics that lie in between, act as a buffer to fully experiencing what I am witnessing. In this case of course, I am an active participant at times. My voice, and my perspective are very much a part of this project. So I am anything but a fly on the wall. But I truly revel in seeing the magical moments that are now suspended in time, moving forward and back at my control across the monitor. There is beauty in being able to preserve these details in the lives and history of a family that has become so dear to me.

As I begin this process of returning to that footage I shot just a few months ago, I am transported back there in a very real way. The feeling of that warm sun on my skin and salty ocean air are embedded in my sensory memory, leaving me longing for a swift return to that island paradise, away from these dreary Rochester doldrums we find ourselves in. But more than that, I find myself recalling the moments of recognition for my mother-in-law Lucy, her nephew Chegui, and for each of us in our own way, experiencing and sharing in something truly meaningful. It was not a vacation in the conventional sense. We were not seeking to get away from something as much as we were returning to something. For the older generation, a return to their roots and the places and people they remember from long ago. For the younger generation, a return to a different time and way of life so filled with an appreciation for family, and history, and the beauty of the natural world that is often lost in the pace of life in this country. And for me, a return to emotions that touched me to the core having been first welcomed into this family, and this culture nearly eight years ago.

As I seek to unfold this narrative of our trip and tabulate the words and pictures of that almost mystic place, these things rush over me. It's like a good book that you can't put down, and though I know the ending, I can't wait to get to the next chapter.