Big fish, little pond

One shot of Xavier from today's schoolfriend gift shoot. 10 families and teachers gone, about 5 to go... Here's the told mammoth project as it unfolds. The challenge I've set myself is to capture each family in 50 images in about 5 minutes and within that, capture emotions and personalities as creatively and technically OK as I can. Also Nola and teacher Keith today.

I feel nostalgia gripping hold of me this week with finer threads and see the opportunities to capture these school days slip at first gradually, now at a hurried pace, away from my grasp. I ask the lead teacher if it's ok and take my camera to the playground area after school as we have some time to kill before the hospital trip to determine why Reuben has a little strider to his breathe, and I see things from Reuben's perspective, the wooden draw bridge, the play structures, the citrus coloured toys and as I watch the boys run rampant, I see them wonder what's brought on this surprise escapade into the playground after school. The feeling overwhelms me once again: two more days of school to go. And then it hits me: he is a big fish in a little pond; despite his little frame, the toys are made for littler kids, the activities are less challenging for him, the songs he can sing and sign in his sleep. The school choices ahead are scary, especially in the megalopolis that is LA and as indeed they are for any family leaving such a programme of early intervention which takes kids, often fresh out of hospital and parents out of septic shock, and rehabilitates them, finds them a home. We are cosy in it's comforting arms. It's just that it doesn't teel temporary. It feels like a more permanent home. The corridors are adorned with photos of our children as flowers and butterflies, the Helen Keller quote: "The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart" shines down on the boys as they race shouting "weeeee" to the classroom with great excitement and the warmth of its rays continues to calm me from deep within.

But perhaps this is the only way I can reconcile those frightening thoughts in my head. 40 years of children before us have taken this journey through these corridors and returned for Autumnal party days as adults, remembering the times they had. As much as my heart yearns for things to stay just as they are, to resist change and the newest challenges Reuben must undertake, he is a big fish in a little pond. And there is an expression for this pain I feel:

It's called growing up.