Lately, I've found myself stepping back in life and simply observing.
I'm typically the person to jump right in when there are parties to be had or serving to be done. When I'm with my family and friends, you'll usually find me right in the middle of everything. I love being in the moment and focusing on the memories being made right there.
For the past few months, however, I have forced myself to take a different perspective. I think I am viewing things differently because home is no longer a place for me. People hold my heart, but places hold my memories. With this understanding, I am beginning to find such enjoyment in just observing those details that paint my beautiful memories.
Often times, I find myself wandering around the dearest of places with my camera in hand. I cannot help but capture those moments that I remember so vividly...not just moments, but the details that build the moments.
A few weeks ago, the cousins came home for a few days. We all journeyed from far off places to celebrate my grandmother's 80th birthday. We affectionately call her Nana.
As we grow up, however, we no longer play in the Secret Garden or on the Porch Swing in the basement or capture the flag through the yard. We talk and fellowship and reminisce about the great fun we had building our childhood at Nana & Papa's.
This day was no different.
Barefoot baseball was played in the backyard as the generation of great-grandkids begin playing in the magical world of Nana & Papa's. Those giant Rhododendron bushes hide our Secret Garden.
I'm typically the person to jump right in when there are parties to be had or serving to be done. When I'm with my family and friends, you'll usually find me right in the middle of everything. I love being in the moment and focusing on the memories being made right there.
For the past few months, however, I have forced myself to take a different perspective. I think I am viewing things differently because home is no longer a place for me. People hold my heart, but places hold my memories. With this understanding, I am beginning to find such enjoyment in just observing those details that paint my beautiful memories.
Often times, I find myself wandering around the dearest of places with my camera in hand. I cannot help but capture those moments that I remember so vividly...not just moments, but the details that build the moments.
A few weeks ago, the cousins came home for a few days. We all journeyed from far off places to celebrate my grandmother's 80th birthday. We affectionately call her Nana.
As we grow up, however, we no longer play in the Secret Garden or on the Porch Swing in the basement or capture the flag through the yard. We talk and fellowship and reminisce about the great fun we had building our childhood at Nana & Papa's.
This day was no different.
Barefoot baseball was played in the backyard as the generation of great-grandkids begin playing in the magical world of Nana & Papa's. Those giant Rhododendron bushes hide our Secret Garden.
I've spent hours upon hours at tat table under those windows playing games, eating meals, or just daydreaming as I gaze through the crystal clear panes.
These wall decorations have looked down upon so much laughter, so many tears, such deep love.
I used to crawl into these chairs around campfires..pushing my chubby little body up with my chubby little legs. They were the sturdiest of chairs then and are the sturdiest of chairs now. Some things never change.
These doors swung open and closed and open and closed. I'm sure my grandparents so often grew tired of the slamming and squeaking, but we were never reprimanded.
I remember when my Papa put this coat rack on the wall for us. I thought it was so perfect. I just couldn't reach it!
So then he put up a lower coat rack. We don't need it anymore, but there it is: waiting for little ones to rest their jackets and bags on the hooks.
Fresh flowers on this table are not a rare sight and when the sun goes down, the light dances off the white walls through the stained glass chandelier. Admiration for this view began when I was too short to sit on a normal chair...and I still love this view every bit as much.
My Nana always has a wreath on the wall...one that someone in the family has made.
Finally, every time I walk out of Nana's home through the garage, I see my 4th grade self hanging there. My awkward, blunt bangs picture glued to my horribly painted grandparent's day craft from 4th grade. It's still there...for all to see...for all to laugh at. Yet, even though it's a tad bit embarrassing, it warms my heart each time.
The thing about Nana & Papa's house is that, no matter how much time passes, I will always walk in and feel loved. It's as if those pure white walls pull you in for a hug whether Nana is home or not. It's the memories that bring that warmness.. The memories of love and laughter.