“Oh!” Nolan said, “There aren’t many divorced couples that can say that.”
“I’m glad we parted ways as we did,” Mia smiled, thinking of Tom. “We work at the same hospital and have a daughter together. His new wife is lovely, and we’re good friends.”
“Okay, so that is a double wow!” Nolan told her.
“And you?” Mia blurted before she could stop herself. “Do you have a wife or children?”
“No and no,” Nolan answered. “My job keeps me incredibly busy, and I travel a LOT.”
“I think I need to travel more,” Mia stated and glanced out over the sea again.
They fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Nolan asked, “Do you want to give it a go?”
She turned to see him holding up his camera. “I don’t know.”
“It’s amazing what difference a decent camera can make to one’s photography.” Nolan tried to tempt her to have a go.
Mia laughed. “My photography skills are limited to taking snapshots with my phone.”
“Even with a phone, you can get good shots if taken right,” Nolan said. He held the camera out to her once again. “Come on. Give it a try.”
Mia hesitated, then carefully took the camera, feeling its weight in her hands. It was heavier than she expected, solid and real.
She lifted it to her eye and looked through the viewfinder at the ocean.
Clicked.
Lowered the camera and looked at the screen.
Mia’s face fell. “That’s terrible.”
Nolan leaned over her shoulder, studying the image. “No, it’s not terrible. It just needs some adjustments.” He pointed at the screen. “See how the horizon is tilted? And the light is washing out the sky here?”
Mia nodded.
“Okay, try again,” Nolan said. “But this time, think about what you’re trying to capture. It’s not just about pointing and shooting. It’s about seeing the moment before it happens. Finding the light. Looking for the story hidden in the frame.”
He moved beside her, his voice dropping into a rhythm that felt almost meditative.
“Photography isn’t about perfection. There’s no such thing as a perfect shot. What you’re looking for is a perfect moment captured in time. A feeling. A breath. Something that makes you stop and really see what’s in front of you instead of just looking at it.”
Mia lifted the camera again, this time more slowly, more deliberately.
She looked at the ocean. Saw the way the fading light caught the crest of a wave. Saw the contrast between the dark water and the glowing sky. Saw the lone bird cutting across the frame, wings spread wide.
Mia clicked.
Lowered the camera.
Looked at the screen.
It was better. Not perfect, but better.
“There you go,” Nolan said, approval clear in his voice. “You’ve got a good eye.”
They stayed there for a while, Nolan showing her how to adjust settings, how to frame a shot, how to wait for the right moment instead of forcing it. Mia found herself getting caught up in it, the act of looking through the lens making everything else fade into the background.
The child’s face didn’t surface. The operating table stayed distant. For the first time in days, Mia’s mind was quiet.
