My love of photos and stories is something that is in the core of me and I can get lost in them for hours, regardless of if I am connected to the person or not. However, there is something extra special about looking through your own past. I have been helping mom organize her old photos and it has been a labor of love. The faces that look back at me are a part of me. They are people who have shaped me or my parents or most often both. They are both my story and their own. Photographs help us not to forget the joy people brought to our lives, the experiences they had and the love they gave, even if they were gone before we had the chance to get to know them. We are connected, by blood, yes, but more so by our path and the moments that their decisions and actions affected our lives. I love photos, I love stories and I love the people that have paved my way even without knowing they were.
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| Mememre's smile brings me back to a childhood filled with her presence. Her insisting that we not say we are going to "steal" a candy but that we are going to "take" a candy from her dish. The way she tapped her foot always even if there was no music. And wonderful memories of watching the french tv channels with her when I didn't speak french and long car rides just for the sake of getting out for a while. |
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| I never got to meet my grandma but I often hear that I got my wavy hair from her. She had a huge smile and she raised a sweet boy who made the most loving father a girl could ask for. |
