I once read a profile of a photographer who traveled extensively with his wife. I don't remember his name. I don't remember why they traveled so much, other than to say it wasn't for photography. He was a recognized artist as a photographer and I remember he defined his photography by the original definition of amateur: A passionate love of what one does regardless of monetary gain.

When he would travel with his wife, he would never photograph the Grand Canyon or vistas they would visit. His camera never left the bag as they stood on the Giza Plateau. The second they entered a hotel or restaurant, he would begin a fly around the room, snapping away in a flurry of flashes while he ducked and dodged and giggled. She reportedly never understood his behavior and would just shake her head and to stay out of his way. One day, as they were standing near some monument or landmark or national point of interest in some foreign land, she asked why he never photographed these glorious sights they would probably never return to. His answer will stick with me forever, even if his name hasn't.....

"I can find a picture of the Grand Canyon, or the pyramids, or this beautiful view in any of a dozen books anytime I want should I forget what they look like. But no matter what book I open I will never be reminded of the bible in the hotel room or the detail in the table mats where we ate lunch..."

As I was thinking about the future with Jen just a few feet away, I thought of the pictures we took that day. Pictures of us together near Coit Tower, pictures of our lunch at Boudine's, and I realized when she left a few days later its not the grand vistas that I will miss the most, but the little things of hers that were surrounding me at that moment...