Cornershot

Years ago, I had a darkroom.

I printed black-and-white photos. It was part of who I was.

However, my life changed. I packed up my darkroom equipment and stored it . Film photography was replaced by digital photography and my darkroom was replaced by computer software. I embraced the change. Or so I thought.

Recently, I attended an estate sale. I was wandering around the basement when I turned a corner and walked through an open door into my past. I had found a photo darkroom.

It looked like the photographer had just stepped out for a snack and would return soon. As I looked around, tears filled my eyes. I was in a place that I had never been before but I felt like I was visiting an old friend.

I miss my darkroom and the magic created there. I miss who I had been when I had a darkroom.

Then I asked who the photographer had been. And it was someone I had known during those years.

Of course, a circle was completed.

Rest in peace, Mr. Hightower. Rest in peace and love, days of my youth.

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