A Thousand Words

Photographs carry us through life. There are the pictures of our babyhood, graduations, wedding or weddings, and everything in between.

All I have to do is look around my house to stir up a whirlwind of emotion. Above my dining table hangs a treasured picture of my mom, and in my living room hangs a portrait of my son when he was three, a rare moment when I allowed him to play in the mud; my nephew at five blissfully experiencing snow for the first time, and a mantle filled with wonderful clips from the past.

My family has always been full of photographers. Amateurs like me who just love taking a pretty shot and professionals like my cousins. 

My grandfather owned his own studio, back in the day, where he experimented with  all kinds of photographic wonder. Therefore I've been lucky to have a rich assortment of family photos over the years. 

My mother loved photography. How I think she would marvel over the digital world we live in now. No more waiting to see how the rolls come out, instant reward in the palm of your hand, the ability to edit and instantly share your world with a friend.

I'm so very thankful to have an amazingly beautiful view of my childhood through her photographs, and I hope that my son will appreciate the photos I will someday leave for him.

One of my son's friends walked into my house a few years ago and said, "Wow coming here is like walking into a memory museum."

What a wonderful compliment, one I hope to always live up too.

My Grandpa with his trusty camera in hand.