The Photo that Never Was

If you look closely at this photo, you will notice there is no cow standing on the front porch. In fact, there is no photo anywhere of a cow standing on the porch of this house.

But there should be.

Becky got up early that morning. She had a mission. Up in the foothills near her daughter's home she had found a perfect spot to capture the sunrise. She felt giddy with anticipation of what a stunning photograph her effort would produce. She had driven past the location months ago when visiting her daughter's family. Ever since, she had obsessed over getting that perfect shot she envisioned.

Finally, the opportunity presented itself. Her daughter asked Becky to stay with the kids for a week while she and her husband went to Europe to celebrate their anniversary. Knowing her teenage grandchildren enjoyed sleeping in Saturday mornings, Becky loaded her camera gear into her car and sped off to her intended photo op. The sky had just barely begun shifting to a soft purplish gray against the black silhouette of the mountains that ringed the valley.

She had only made it about a mile down the long, straight road that ran through the center of the little town when movement off to the right caught her eye.

It was a cow.

She looked again.

The cow was not in the pasture where it belonged on the left side of the road. It had wandered across the street and climbed the steps of the house. There it stood, tail flapping idly, staring intently at the front door, presumably waiting to be let in.

Becky laughed as the cow turned her head nonchalantly to watch the car drive past. It may have been the most comical thing ever seen in this small farm community.

“I'll have to get a picture of that on my way back,” she thought to herself, her mind still focused on the vision of that one perfect sunrise shot. She rounded the corner at the end of the road, raced off up main street, and turned to climb the winding foothill roads.

The sky was already beginning to splash soft peach streaks between the stark black peaks and the lightening purple above them. Becky hurriedly parked the car and began unloading her gear. Time ticked faster and faster as she bustled about setting up her tripod, securing her camera and finding the perfect angle, the one she knew would get those stunning streams of light as the sun crested the mountains. The glowing orb stretched slowly higher, peaking out behind the mountain ridge to bid Becky good morning. She snapped a couple photos, then scrolled through to look at the results. None of them looked as she imagined. She adjusted some settings, took a few more. Still, they just did not turn out quite like she wanted. A couple more adjustments and several more slightly disappointing shots later, she finally sighed in resignation. She could always try again tomorrow.

She packed her gear back up but set the camera bag in the front seat this time instead of in the truck where she stowed everything else. Determined that the morning would not be a complete waste, Becky would be ready to capture the comedy awaiting back down the road.

A few minutes later, as she turned off main street onto the center road of town, Becky again faced deep disappointment. When she had driven past earlier, no other cars were around. Everyone seemed to be asleep in the surrounding homes. It had been just her and the cow up and about. But now, the road was full of police cars, lights flashing annoyingly. The cow had a rope slung over its neck and was being led back across the street by one timid looking officer. Another officer looked to be sternly lecturing a hunched, elderly man who waited in front of his pasture while a third stood on the porch, where there should be a cow, talking with the homeowner.

“Why didn’t I stop earlier?” Becky shook her head in dismay. Realization dawned that she had been so caught up in getting the perfect photo that she had driven right past a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Years later, Becky and her daughter drove back past the house with the porch without a cow. As she often did, she sighed forlornly and expressed, yet again, how much she wished she had just stopped to take the photo. Across the street, the pasture where the cow had once lived was slowly transforming into a sprawling development of townhomes and houses, forever dashing any hope that a cow might escape and wander back onto that porch.

If you were to ask Becky, she might tell you that she has many regrets in life but missing that photo will always be one of the most infuriating. Perhaps only beaten by sharing the story of her myopia with her smartass daughter and encouraging that same smartass daughter to become a writer.

Next time, just stop and take the photo.