The smell of bacon assaults my senses and then I hear the most beautiful sound of a giggle. Grabbing my camera from the nightstand, I turn it on and head to the kitchen. Standing against the stove with only a pair of black sweatpants on, is Gio. With a spatula in his hand, he flips the bacon. Standing on a stool next to him is our two-year old daughter, Bea, who loves cooking almost as much as her dad does.
Snap.
Snap.
“Fluff them,” he instructs, handing her, her own spatula. She giggles some more, taking the spatula from him and pushing the eggs around in the pan, knocking some out and onto the floor. She giggles as Gio laughs, picking them up and throwing them into the sink.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
I take several photos of them until it reads memory full. I must have put the wrong card into the camera when I left the studio after a session with a family yesterday. I click view and scroll back several pictures until I get to one I took years ago.
It’s of the Giardino Delle Rose. A beautiful garden here in Florence. I can remember the picture like it was yesterday, yet it feels like forever ago that I took it. I was studying for a test and decided to have a picnic in the grass. The flowers were blooming, deep pinks and yellows. The grass was a deep shade of green.
The next picture is one I took during my weekly trip to the outdoor food market by myself. Ripe red tomatoes, purple eggplants. I flip through them, realizing these were taken during the year Gio and I were apart. I flip through each picture and it hits me that I created a life here during that year apart, filled with so many colorful memories. The problem was I couldn’t see the color. I was lost in the grey, in the darkness.
The next picture is one I took of Gio and Bea eating dinner at the restaurant last night, both laughing at the camera. I click to the next photo. It’s a selfie of Gio and me. He’s tickling me in bed and I have my eyes closed, my head thrown back, and the silliest grin on my face as he snaps the picture.
I flip from picture to picture of us, laughing, smiling, and I end up at the ones I just took, of Gio and our beautiful daughter cooking in our kitchen. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, pushing away the nightmares from my past. It’s a struggle every day to live in the moment.
I open my eyes and exhale a deep breath. Gio is standing there, staring at me with the most gorgeous smile on his face, holding our daughter in his arms, and I can finally see it. The beauty in the darkness. The Rainbow that comes after the storm. The bright colors that make up my life when Gio is in it. To an outsider looking in, my story may appear dark. Gloomy. Black. Gray. Like a horrible storm that comes through filled with destruction, destroying everyone in its path. But to me, those colors are just the outlining of the bigger picture, because inside those dark stormy lines are shades of the most beautiful colors.
And those colors are my life.
The End.