A truly outstanding memory isn’t always captured in a photograph.

The sun set a quarter of an hour ago. Our kids run ahead on the beach and the faded pink sky hums with the quiet thrill of doing something unordinary, like walking barefoot on cool sand at dusk. Seeing the kids laugh, jump, exclaim, point, and goof around beats a regular school night at home.

Why do we go on holiday? To escape the grind, to rest, to explore, to make memories? To take photos of our wonderful experiences and share them with the world? Or simply to be there, in the moment, enjoying the now? If you blink, you might miss the show, and the now.

Suddenly, a pod of dolphins appears just beyond the shore break. In the fading light, it’s beautiful, surreal, and it doesn’t cost a cent.
Impulsively I look for my camera but remember I only have my phone with me. “No use, it’s too dark,” I scold myself.
I decide to just watch. I breathe and I let it happen.

“Wait, they’re coming closer to shore!” the eldest exclaims.
“They’re surfing!” his sister shrieks.

Surely, I think, already awed, these dolphins aren’t about to jump from a wave?

But then, it happens.
The “exceeds expectations” moment becomes a truly outstanding memory. A dolphin rockets from the front of the wave with the grace of a ballet dancer and the wild joy of a wire-haired fox terrier reunited with its people.

Conditioned to a world of replays and instant gratification, I almost expect it to happen again. Or for a slow-motion version to magically appear, but there’s no replay. No photograph and no entry for National Geographic.

Then, just like that, the pod slips into the blue yonder, and the beach forgets. Life returns to normal, as if it never happened.

I have many photos from this holiday, but none match this moment. So, does a memory without a photograph count?

I think they count more.

 

View my landscape gallery

https://www.sa-venues.com/things-to-do/gardenroute/lookout-beach/