life

There is a photo of my mother when she was young and pregnant.  There is a fabulously bold wallpaper behind her and two small swinging wood doors that look like they were taken from a saloon that John Wayne would have frequented.  If those two things don't give away the era her outfit and hairstyle surely do.  I was drawn to that picture as a child, intrigued by a time, place and woman that I wasn't familiar with.  It was romantic.

Our computer is weighed down by thousands upon thousands of pictures that I hold onto for the silliest of reasons.  The favorite grey boots worn to church in the heat of a record breaking spring.  Scraggly hair that means she won the fight that day.  A sassy hand on the hip.  A slight view of the bracelet that hasn't been removed since the day he made it in scouts.  A shirt that never stays tucked in.  An overflowing shoe basket in the entry way.  

There are no bad pictures.

every one tells a story,

a vivid reminder.

capturing childhood.  capturing life.