After 5 days in Rio, my camera took flight. Those were 5 days of beautiful photos including Ipanema, Santa Theresa, the wedding, and Sugar Loaf today. It was a small but fancy camera given to me by my ex a year ago with the idea that we’d travel the world together. Looks like the camera was more destined for long-term world travel than I was…
Somewhere between sitting on the table at lunch and the cab ride back to the apartment, it disappeared. I realized it when we got to the apartment; it was no longer over my shoulder. I tore the place apart. We cabbed back to the restaurant. “machina? Clic? Clic?” nao, nao… Nothing. It either slipped or was swiped on my way to or in the cab. I thought about sitting on the corner where we were dropped off, waiting for the big-hearted driver to return with a wide smile. (Can you think of a more unlikely scenario??)
After we exhausted all options, we headed down to the beach where the bride and groom had been playing beach volleyball all day. They we’re packing up. I told them what happened, joked to the groom and his dad, I was hoping you’d be able to give me the phone number for missing cameras in Rio! They looked melancholy.
Fortunately, I did get a few minutes to say good bye to my friend, the bride, G–the only person here who knows about the baby project. They leave on their honeymoon tomorrow. We hugged and she said in my ear,”I can’t wait to hear your good news, I’m so happy for you!” and the bigger loss and hope and love and what’ s really important all returned and the tears came. I got to tell her how happy I am for her too and how much it meant to me to be here.
It’s hard to let go of all that we don’t control. It’s hard to accept “what is” sometimes, even when there are good things staring you in the face. Just hours ago, if I had tucked my little camera into my purse, I would still have it. If I had just downloaded all the photos last night instead of just one, I’d still have the photos. But here I am in Rio, without a camera, not pregnant, heading to Buzios tomorrow, the “St. Tropez of Brazil.” (don’t cry for me!)
It helps to remember that it’s just a dumb object. An object that wanted to live in Brazil. An object that is teaching me about letting go. It also helps, a lot, that my new friend A was standing next to me taking almost all the same photos.
So much hope lies ahead. And, for now, a reminder to be in the moment.
And a run will help.