Things take the time they take.
“Things take the time they take. Don’t Worry. How many roads did St. Augustine follow before he became St. Augustine?”
I heard Mary Oliver say this poem while I was listening to On Being (PS, nerd alert. I'm a podcast obsessive and am currently on a Krista Tippet binge, so.)
I was riding home from a shoot. The sun was hanging low, an angry shade of red beneath the haze of the city. Still, everything was glowing and all the buildings sparkled, and I was on the back of a motorcycle and the wind was against my cheek thinking about my pictures and these words were in my ears. Anyway, it stuck with me, these for lines. They rolling around in my mind, like a mantra I guess.
The next morning I got up before dawn to take pictures of another family. While I was gone, my husband work with the children, took them out to breakfast, cleaned the fridge, did the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. And then he booked me for my dream workshop in Australia next spring.
Things do take the time they take. How wonderful it is to feel supported in my work, to feel like after all that waiting for the time to take, it finally has.