Mark Lee - The Canal House

“No. He wouldn’t. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“God, I wish I knew all the answers or just a few of them. But I don’t, Nicky. All I know is that I’m still in love with Daniel. That hasn’t changed.”

We sat quietly. The sun was warm and a light wind made the grass sway back and forth. A few yards down the slope, a brown finch was pecking out the seeds from a sunflower. I forgot about myself, who I was and what I wanted to do.

La Signora shouted something in Italian. I looked up the hill and saw the old lady standing beneath the arbor on the patio. There were plates of food and loaves of bread on the table and she waved her right arm, summoning us to the feast.

Julia glanced at me and smiled. “Are you hungry, Nicky?”

“Sure.”

“La Signora wants me to eat all the time. She says it’s good for the baby.”

We walked up the hill together. “So?” she asked. “Will you stay for a while?”

I nodded. “For a few days.”

Julia seemed pleased. “Wonder if it’s a boy or girl. I bet La Signora knows, but she’s not telling.”

“Maybe she’ll tell me.”

I glanced at Julia; she held her head up slightly and looked forward as if she was about to start a long journey. And the world felt larger, it seemed to expand around us so that I was aware of the farm and the bridge and the distant hills. I pulled out my camera and raised it to my eye, then decided not to take the picture.

WHEN I FIRST became a photographer, I was only aware of the sun over my shoulder and the flash on my camera. Then I got older and began to notice the shadows that touched all of us. Now I realize that every object in this world reflects and absorbs light. We are created by light, shaped by light, and we burn our image into the hearts of others.