Exposure

My photos haven't been turning out the way I think they should. My brother-in-law taught me about photography when I was in seventh grade. He had a dark room and a great camera. I fell in love with the art of recording things in visual media, but even greater for me was the magical feeling of manipulating the photos to just how I wanted them. Time in the bath, dodging, laying objects on the negatives, there was no end to creative exploration.
"Robin is such a great photographer. " "Will you give me copies of your pictures, they are always so much better than mine." "I just love your pictures." Over the years I held these comments on my talent in reserve, basking in the comments of others, feeling like I was finally good enough at something.
But lately my pictures are weak. A little blurry, not exposed just right, composition off. I resorted to the "automatic" feature on my camera, frustrated and depressed. On the road trip I handed my camera to my daughter, as she could use the same settings, be in the same place, but her pictures came out better. I am in mourning over the loss of my talent, my ego taking a dive. What will I show off to others? How will I please them? Will there be anything that they will seek from me?
For my friends and colleagues working in the field of education the summer is almost over. Back to work comments are scattered on Facebook, phone calls made for that last get together of summer. I should be ecstatic that I am not going back, but after so many years with an identity built around my career, I have a lump of emotion sitting in my chest. No, I am not sad that I don't have to face the end of summer. It is more like anxiety, but even that fails to describe the feeling. A plunge into icy water? Opening a door in a dark and scary room? No, not that either. It is like standing at the top of a long staircase. Concrete steps covered with moss. No hand rail. Stone walls on either side covered with a green slime, making it impossible to gain extra support as I carefully place each foot on the next step down. Eager for what is at the bottom, but overwhelmed with the feeling of descending into the unknown. I consider sitting on the step and sliding down to avoid falling, but the green slime will ruin my clothes.
I just have to keep at it, carefully, slowly feeling my way down. I have to hand off some of my glory to others. I have to play with the exposure until I get it just right.