Have you ever captured a dream in the palm of your hand?
My journey to photograph Wrigley Field during a summer sunrise was just that—a dream, especially for my father, a lifelong Chicago Cubs fan. Chicago awakened, its streets gradually filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and the distant sound of the L train. The city's heartbeat was striking, a rhythm of anticipation and daybreak.
As I approached Wrigley Field, the air held a hint of magic. This iconic ballpark, steeped in history since 1914, stood before me, bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn. The sight was a bridge across generations, a testament to countless moments of joy, disappointment, and hope.
The silence of the early hour allowed me to hear the whispers of the past—the cheers, the groans, the triumphant roars. Setting up my camera, I aimed to capture not just the field but the soul of a place where dreams are woven into the very fabric of the city.
The first rays of sunlight kissed the brick and ivy, casting a glow that seemed to ignite the stadium with a majestic fire. Click—the shutter closed, and with it, I captured more than just an image. It was a memory, a piece of history for my father, a tangible piece of his passion.
Handing him the photograph, his eyes lit up with the same fire that dawn had brought to Wrigley Field. In that moment, I understood the power of a simple image to bridge years and bring us closer to those we love. It was an incredible experience, a reminder that sometimes, the most profound connections come from the simplest acts of understanding and love.
