On Saturday, I took Martin two hours south to Newrybar, New South Wales, to celebrate his birthday. I looked forward to the long, scenic drive, excited to surprise him with my plans for the day ahead. As I drove, I let Martin play the photographer, pointing out bridges and tunnels that would make good shots, teaching him how to compose the photograph and be my eyes through the lens. I was quick not to let potential shots pass us by on the 110km/h roads, prodding him constantly to capture the scene the second either of us noticed it. I never realised how quickly I reacted to what could be a beautiful photograph, a record of a fleeting moment, until I trusted my camera to another, and instructed them to be me.
We enjoyed the peaceful ambience at Harvest Cafe and explored their gourmet deli, wishing that we didn't live so far away. We stopped by the antique store across the road and I was fascinated by what we found there, with beautiful, ornate objects dating back to the 1800s. Then we were off to the Cape Byron lighthouse, unprepared for the winds blowing every which way and the downpour of rain. But we were content, reacquainted with simplicity, who we were and who we are to each other. It is all too easy to get lost amongst the day-to-day, becoming disconnected with yourself and forgetting to be.
The next day, I awoke early and let Martin sleep, preparing him breakfast with the fresh-baked sourdough and quality French camembert we bought from Harvest Deli the day before. We opened his gifts and prepared for a day with our families: a birthday brunch with his, and a birthday dinner with mine. His little nephew continues to delight me; he grows more clever and cheeky as the days go on.