I Met Her in Molalla
It was late in the morning when she walked down to my cabin, rain falling, my suitcase packed. "Do you still wanna shoot?" "No, no, no," I replied, "it's raining and cold and I can't do that to you!" I brushed off our plans, happy to let the rain win, happy to let nonna's nightgowns crinkle at the bottom of my suitcase, happy because I had made a new friend. "Are you sure? What time are you leaving for the airport?" "I dunno. Maybe in like an hour." "Well, I'm still down if you are. I think the rains going to taper off." "Really?" So off we went, sinking in mud, sheltered by moss, lost in Molalla, playing like kids but creating like artists, building on a budding friendship that had already known itself as much as to make sure we went outside to photograph in the rain that morning before I left for the airport. I had only known her for hours.