We get so few real gifts in life.
I was in Iceland.
Ten days in Iceland and it rained one day. My birthday.
In the driving rain and wind, I decided to explore Reykjavik Harbor.
Hoping to get some kind of shot, through the storm, I had my camera firmly in hand under my raingear, for hours.
Soaked. Freezing. Tired. Hopeless.
I started to walk back to the bus station. Beyond caring that there wasn’t a dry inch on my body. I stopped. To pack my camera. It’s done. Nothing today.
As I ducked under the smallest of ledges (trust me), I looked up and saw this, a fisherman looking out to the sea. Surveying the storm. Would he go? Would he stay? How many fisherman might have looked out that same window, overlooking Reykjavik Harbor, wondering the same thing? How many generations?
It was the only photo that I took that day.
It was my gift.