I can hear the wind blow outside, making the loose snow collide with my window. Even though the snow is but a fine dust, it’s enough to keep me awake. I turn on my side, locking my gaze on the pink Instax mini that I received as a graduation present.
“Summer is almost here, Pig,” I think to myself, almost as if I’m speaking to my camera. “We just have to be patient.” Laughter pours from my television, signaling that Youtube is cycling through videos, hoping someone is watching.
I don’t like the winter as it is difficult to learn with Pig. There are certain lighting settings to make your pictures darker or lighter than what Pig decides, and special tricks to make sure that the pictures aren’t over exposed. It’s also extremely difficult to capture the beauty of winter when the snow is mixed with road salt and sand, turning the pure white snow to an ugly greenish brown. No, the prime time for learning how Pig operates is summer, that way we are both prepared for autumn.
Pig and I have learned that it’s easy to say summer is just around the corner, but we know what we really mean. Summer is for wandering, finding beauty around every corner. It’s for early morning dew, measuring the blooms of the apple trees through Pig’s lens, and breathtaking sunsets that she tries to capture. It’s for a black bikini covered by white shorts and my favorite maroon wanderlust crop top. It’s for once tanned-now paled skin begging the sun for its luminous kiss. It’s for a freckled face beaming, and blue eyes hidden by too-large sunglasses. Summer is two young children splashing carelessly in shallow waters, picnic lunches, and fresh picked strawberries. Pig knows that the summer is her time to shine. She knows her job is to capture all of the summer memories to keep me warm during the bitter cold winter.
In a sense, I’m sure she feels as though she failed me, but it’s the other way around. I let Pig down by not knowing how she works, not knowing what makes her tick. I’ve done the research and I made a promise. Pig and I have big plans this summer, and she can finally show me what she’s made of.