My Husband, The Photographer - By Barbara P.
Optics…branch of physics...involves behaviors and properties of light…including its interaction with matter and the construction of the instruments that use and detect it.
I came into this world full of light, perfectly constructed. An instrument of light.
My instrument was originally entrusted to negligent and destructive caregivers. It was not my own.
My tiny mind and body struggled to survive and hold onto my original light; but it was impossible.
I learned to feel my way in the ensuing dimness.
I had to become fearless in that dimness to go on. Later, the dimness became my new light.
And I found you.
Your light was dim too, but I couldn't know it.
It seems it was dimmed in the same way mine was.
So we joined together to go forward, I thought.
Love and trust and commitment and courage, I thought.
Slowly, I saw that there was a way to invite more light in. Oh, but it would take courage and commitment and fearlessness beyond what I would ever have imagined.
I moved toward the light.
And the light brought more light.
But immediately following that burst of light and courage, came pain and sorrow and ridicule, from those that were protecting their darkness.
Those that loved their darkness more than they loved themselves…and much more than they loved me.
And you were one of them. But I couldn't then know it. I couldn't see clearly enough...
I saw only two choices. I could reach for the light, or try to fight off the ridicule, withdrawal, punishment, and scapegoating. I couldn't do both. I tried.
ApertureAn opening. A gap. A hole. An adjustable opening in an optical instrument that limits the amount of light passing through the lens.
You skillfully adjusted the aperture of my unconscious awareness, ever tweaking and adjusting, subtly, slightly. And always with a motive.
Right there. Hold steady. Click. That's the picture you wanted to create. Oh, yes, lovely! I see it now. All is well in my world. I have you and you are part of my light, I thought.
Your deceptive words distracted and confused, as your adjustments created a darker and more restricted lens through which the light of truth could travel.
Sometimes I would wrestle with the darkness in you. And you would quickly shift your tactic, making adjustments to distort the light. To shift the darkness.
Your words flowed like mirrors, causing sudden darting distortions.
Words to make something seemingly dim, appear bright and shiny. Chrystal-like phrases and notes to magnify your tiny efforts into beautiful gems of love and commitment. Gems of faithfulness. Life-long enduring love.
Deceptive words. God, how skilled you are at twisting and contorting words. Even your lies are viciously laced with distorted explanations of how you stayed faithful to me.
Please put the camera down.
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