Chapter 45

My days turned into a routine of getting up, getting breakfast with Monica and talking to her about my progress, and then leaving in the rental car to go off on my explorations. I always stayed out for several hours, parking the car somewhere and hiking far away and then returning to it. I would return to the huts somewhere between afternoon and evening, exhausted and aching but giddy with excitement and pleased with the day's work. My photoshoots were amazing, and I was always running and hiking and laughing as I ventured into the hearts of the countries we stayed in.

After Mozambique we went to Zimbabwe, and I was learning that all the African countries looked very similar, or at least the ones we were visiting. But they each had something special for me, like Zimbabwe's breathtaking Victoria Falls, a waterfall that I returned to several times throughout the week we were there to try to capture its beauty.

I felt as though I was settled in, and it was surprising and unsettling to me that I had already been away from Ignazio for more than two weeks. I had such fond memories from my days with Il Volo, and when things quieted down I liked to go to that place in my mind where I could see the boys again.

I was still anxious sometimes with the idea of being so far away from them, and sometimes being in Africa reminded me of when I was lost in the Nicaraguan jungle. It was dangerously inviting, both rewarding and terrifying wandering alone through the countries. Like the jungle, Africa separated me from Ignazio, making me so far away from him, only this time I actually was so far away from him! I was missing out on him, and I tried to remind myself that I was living my dream and think instead about the fun I had when I left the community in the mornings.

I loved going out on the shoots, and I always returned excited and happy, but it bothered me that when I wasn't going out to get my landscapes, I was doing nothing. My purpose with N.G. was as a photographer, and when I wasn't doing that there was nothing else for me to do. I felt purposeless whenever things calmed down. With Il Volo, there was always something I could do if I wanted to work, or always someone to talk to if I was content. Here, I quickly grew bored whenever I returned from a shoot, and I tried to deal with the monotony of waiting for the next day.

I asked Monica frequently about her project, but it quickly became evident to me that I couldn't be more than a photographer for her. I couldn't know how she wanted things done, and I couldn't help more than I was at the risk of making it my project. Monica was the creator and overseer of the project, and she knew exactly how she wanted things to be done, how she wanted the information she was gathering to be put together to provide information about the countries to the world.

I loved being a landscape photographer, but whenever I stopped, I felt like that was all I was. I was important to the project, but if I left they could always get another landscape photographer. I just wanted more to do. I wondered about where N.G would send me after I finished the assignment in Africa, and I hoped it would be a project I could be more involved with. But I realized as I wondered that that was probably not possible. How could I hope to be more than a N.G. photographer when I was supposed to be just a N.G. photographer? There was so much room in my mind to do more, to be more ambitious, to want more, and so I hung onto the excitement of my landscapes and tried to focus just on that.

The days of exploration and then boredom continued, and the last country we arrived in was Botswana. I continued my normal routine of waking up, exploring in a whirl of excitement, and then returning to the village and sitting around thinking.

One day I came home early, in the afternoon, because it had started raining and didn't stop when I tried to wait it out in the car. I returned to the village and went to my hut where I lay on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and thinking.

As the minutes went slowly by and I stared blankly up at the ceiling, the boredom started to get to me and there was a sinking in my chest as I thought.

"I did it," I said, the words appearing and then evaporating into the rain. "I became a photographer for National Geographic."

There was a pretty ring to the words, a small triumph I got from saying them. I was a photographer for National Geographic. I had always wanted to be a professional landscape photographer, and now I was, and it was great to be able to go out and explore whenever I wanted.

I could clearly imagine being with N.G. in a few years, being sent on assignments alone or with a group of journalists to photograph the scenery of different places in the world. I'd be doing exactly what I was doing now, just in different environments. The idea of capturing the landscapes of different places in the world excited me, but the idea of finishing the job and having nothing else to do made my heart sink. Was my entire life going to be taking pictures and publishing them? Would I ever be able to something bigger, have the opportunity to take control of a project? Maybe not. Would I be able to deal with that? Maybe, but I was uncertain.

I could probably convince myself to be content with my landscapes and nothing more. But was I going to? I had to! In just a few days, I'd be retuning to Washington D.C. to sign the contract to work with N.G. for a much longer time than the four weeks I was about to complete. I would finally accept my dream; the ideal I'd been chasing since I started attending classes at Harrison. I'd never had any other long-term dream than being where I was at this moment, being a self-motivated photographer for N.G.

The rain was slowing outside, and I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. Maybe I was just getting cold feet about signing the contract in a few days, but I was beginning to think that maybe there was more to this photography dream than just taking landscapes.

I sat quietly for a few minutes, staring at the wall and listening as the rain finally became a drizzle and then stopped. I slowly got up from the bed and pulled on my red high-tops, leaving the lonely hut and walking through the village over the wet mud and glistening grass. It was the last light of day, and the sky was growing darker with just a streak of a brilliant orange peeking over the horizon.

I wandered aimlessly through the village staring at the sunset until I found Monica reading alone at a wooden outdoor table. I went up to it and sat beside her, and she glanced up and smiled at me, and then paused and watched me intently.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Sure," I said softly, and she hesitated before looking back down at her papers.

I quietly watched the Botswana people emerging from the huts and beginning their dinners together, and I watched the children walking barefoot through the mud and laughing.

"What happens…" I started, and my soft tone made Monica look up and watch me closely. "What happens after you've gotten your dream?"

"After you've gotten your dream…Well, Tamzin, I suppose you enjoy that dream for as long as you want…and then, providing you haven't made a commitment to this first dream, you find another one."

"A new dream," I said softly, and she nodded.

"Why, what are you thinking?" she asked soothingly.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," I said, getting up from the table.

"It's dinnertime."

"I'm not hungry."

"Be careful, then. It's getting dark."

"I know."

I left the village, trudging slowly along through the savannah and looking ahead at the waving grass and the never-ending sky above. As I walked, I could see the places I photographed in the morning light, the areas I had run to, the spots where I had crawled through the grass or climbed trees or drove through in search of new land. The world around me was beautiful and inviting, holding so many things to give me when I went searching for them, so many things to show me!

This was supposed to be my dream! I was supposed to be always striving for this and never letting anything get in the way of becoming a National Geographic photographer. I was supposed to embrace this job and be ecstatic to work like this forever, content to always be free to explore, to romp through the earth with nothing else to take up my time or distract me. This was supposed to be the point in which I would never long for anything again, the final thing I had to reach to be content forever. I wasn't supposed to have any doubts, even under the pressure of knowing I'd be signing a contract in a few days. This was supposed to be what I wanted!

Then why, after settling into this life and experiencing the thrill of it, was I suddenly questioning if this was what I wanted!? Of course it was what I wanted! I had always wanted this!

Maybe I just needed to stop thinking and go to bed, and all of my uncertainty would evaporate in the morning when I left for tomorrow's shoot. It was wishful thinking, that every uncertainty would just fade, but I turned around and started walking back to the village, quickly this time and with purpose. I went swiftly through the village to my hut and went inside, pulling off my high-tops and changing into my lightweight pajama shorts and T-shirt. I threw my clothes into my open suitcase against the wall and climbed onto the mattress, pulling a thin sheet over me and squeezing my eyes shut, determined to make the night turn into morning.

The quick walking and restless thinking had made me feel alert and energized, and as I lay there and time slowly passed, I was unable to relax and stop thinking. I needed something to focus on other than my thoughts, something comforting and warm. Immediately I knew what I wanted, and I got up and opened the drawer of the little wooden bedside table.

From inside I took a handcrafted candle I had bought in the village and a box of matches. I set down the candle on the table and struck a match, the flame instantly illuminating the room and bathing everything in the quiet, gentle light. I lit the candle, put the matches back in the drawer, and quietly moved back onto the mattress, laying down and watching the candle. The brilliant little flame glowed and flickered, and it reflected on the wall, the warm reflection moving and brightening as the flame did. I quietly watched it, focusing on its bright light and the orange glow it filtered throughout the room.

It was beautiful and quiet, and as I watched I slowly began to relax, until finally I was able to close my eyes and begin to doze, still seeing its warm flicker behind my lids.

"Tamzin, what do you want?"

I absorbed the question for a moment, and then lifted my head in confusion and shot him a quizzical look.

"Ignazio, what kind of a question is that?"

He turned his head to me, and his face showed sincerity.

"I mean overall. What is it you want?"

"Huh? What do you want?"

I stirred and then relaxed again, wanting to be drawn back into the dream. I was faintly aware of the candlelight, far off in the distance, still warming the space around me with its orange glow.

"I guess…" I said, thinking, "With my photography, I want to capture the beauty of things within the world. I want to capture it and present it to people, draw them into the realm of beauty."

Immediately I was yanked out of my dream as I jolted upright and thrust back the sheet. I sat up straight, my breathing suddenly loud, and I turned to the candle still dancing on the bedside table, its brilliant light bathing the mattress in its glow.

I stared at it, into the brightness of the light, as my heart began to speed up and my mind raced.

"I want-" I started in a loud, dazed whisper. I ran my hands through my hair and started again, my voice clearer and louder. "I want to capture the beauty of things within the world. I want to capture it and present it to people, draw them into the realm of beauty."

I stared at the flickering of the candlelight's glow on the mattress, vividly being brought back to the stormy night in Canada where Ignazio had lit candles and lined them up along the windowsill, then drawn me close to him and wrapped a blanket around us. I remembered watched the dancing of the candles and feeling Ignazio's warmth despite the freezing air of the dark room, and telling him for the first time my goal.

And my goal was to capture the beauty of things within the world! I had also told him I wanted to be a photographer for National Geographic, but when he asked me what I wanted, the first thing that I told him was that I wanted to capture the beauty of things within the world. That was my ultimate goal! There was more to my dream than just landscapes! My foremost pursuit was not of a job at National Geographic, but of beauty!

I turned and shifted to the edge of the mattress, to move nearer to the candle and further into its realm of warm light.

My goal was to capture beauty, and never had I known anything more beautiful than Il Volo. The love between the boys, their music, the passion they shared for that music, their playfulness and excitement, their support of one another, and the community they had with the producers and the band and even the fans was so beautiful! Never had I more purpose than when I was determined to help Il Volo fly.

I scrambled up from the bed and went to my suitcase, dropping to my knees and searching frantically until I found Ignazio's good-bye letter. I brought it to the bed and sat to reread a part of it in the glow of the candle.

"But just like I can't deal with the thought of not have known you, neither can you deal with not knowing what it would be like to live your dream. As much as I want you to be with me, I can't keep you here with you not knowing."

"I know," I said, and then looked up at the candle and said it again. "I know!"

Now I knew. Now I knew what it was like to be a photographer for National Geographic, and I knew what it was like to live this dream. Ignazio was right when he told me I never would have been able to forget this dream, but now I didn't have to forget about it! I had experienced it! I had achieved my dream of becoming a National Geographic photographer, and yes, it was beautiful! It was fun and exciting, but so was being with Il Volo! When I had come up with this dream as a kid, Il Volo hadn't even existed yet! I hadn't known about the world of Il Volo, but now I knew, and I knew how beautiful and brilliant it was!

The thrill of taking landscapes would always be there for me. I could always be a landscape photographer, even if I wasn't working for National Geographic. They may not always be there for me, but nature would be. I could share my pictures online, and I could give National Geographic all my pictures with rights to publish them, but I didn't have to spend my whole life working here if it wasn't my dream anymore!

I had a new dream, one that I knew I'd never have doubts about, a place where I'd never again question my role or feel insignificant. I knew a place where I was loved and wanted, and I knew that I could live there forever and not wish to be anywhere else anymore, now that I knew what getting my past dream was like.

Ignazio had sent me here so I could know what was right, and now I did.

I pulled on my red high-tops and stepped outside of the hut, looking up into the brilliant stars twinkling in the night sky, thousands of candles all flickering above me. Before I could stop myself, I laughed, my heart racing with excitement as I clutched Ignazio's letter to my chest. I had made my decision, and never was I so sure of anything in my life.