Tanisha lay on her bed and stared at the black, bulky camera on her dresser. What on earth had made her father think that she would want something that was practically an antique? He had presented it to her two months ago and still the camera sat, unused, taking up valuable space among her jewelry box and porcelain cat collection. Tanisha loved taking pictures with her mobile phone and posted regularly on her social media sites. The camera was pretty good even though it was already a few years old. Hundreds of photos of her and her friends had filled the daily stream over the past year, the first year she was allowed to have an account. She occasionally took photos of other things like her cat, Hubble, and hamster, Mr. Lincoln. But most of her pictures were of Tanisha and whomever she was hanging out with that day.

When she had opened this unusual gift, her father had mentioned that it might change the way she saw things. Tanisha didn’t have a clue what he meant. Her vision was fine, wasn’t it?

He had shown her how to focus the lens and what the different buttons were for. He also tried to show Tanisha how to read the “F stop”—whatever that was—but cut the explanation short when he saw Tanisha’s bored look. He suggested that she just “play around” with it. Tanisha had watched as he loaded the film in the back of the camera, carefully using the small lever to wind it around a small black cylinder. Snapping the cover shut, he handed it to her and told her to have fun.

Frankly, “playing” with an ancient camera seemed more like work than fun. Tanisha was accustomed to getting great photos on her camera in an instant. She loved using some of the software tools that allowed her to alter her photos by putting cute borders around them or adding funny features to her friends’ faces.

This camera did, well…nothing.

Yet, Tanisha was intrigued by her father’s insistence on the camera’s value. Why didn’t he sell it, she wondered? When she had asked about this, her father had said that it wasn’t a “money thing.” Apparently, her grandfather had been a photographer, as well as her father—until he no longer had the time for it. With a sigh, she swung her legs off the edge of her bed, stood up, and picked up the camera and its accompanying bag, both seeming to weigh half as much as she did! It was time to see if she could figure out what her father was talking about.

Hmm…what would be her first subject? She carefully brought the camera up to her face so she could see through the viewfinder, which looked like a little window. The gray sky, treetops, telephone wires, and a garbage can came into her sight. These were not suitable subjects. She brought the camera down farther to look at the landscape surrounding her. Living in New Mexico, one saw miles of scenery bathed in brown and green: pinion trees, juniper trees, and dirt. In her mind, that’s all there was. Not much to look at, let alone capture in a photo.

Tanisha walked slowly into the backyard where a few iris bulbs were beginning to emerge with the onset of spring. Still, there were no actual flowers to take advantage of for a photo. Her gaze slowed and perception narrowed until her eyes rested upon a rock.

Really? A rock? She second-guessed herself as she moved closer, thinking that she must be really desperate to settle on this for her picture. There was nothing remarkable about the color, size, or shape of it. But as she got down on her knees and examined the rock, a number of things caught her attention.

First, she found an imprint of a tiny plant embedded on the side of the rock. It was like the world’s smallest fern extending itself up and over the top. Next, she recognized some lichen—small patches of green fungi—covering various spots. She remembered her science teacher talking about the presence of lichen as a sign that the air is clean.

As she placed the rock back where it had previously been, she lay on her stomach and held up the camera. Realizing she wanted to capture the little fern imprint, she instinctively moved that side of the rock toward the light. She lay down again and held up the camera to her eye. Focus, focus—there! She heard the “click” as her finger pressed the button to capture the photo.

After a half-dozen pictures of various sides of the rock, Tanisha sat on the ground and carefully looked around her, inhaling deeply as her gaze softened. What else had she never noticed before? An ant crawled over her leg as a soft breeze blew, and with it, the smells of new life—and an infinite number of subjects for future photos.