I miss going to my grandmothers home and spending days exploring all the books, magazines, records, cassettes, 8-tracks and photo albums from a time when my mother was beginning to show. I miss photography. My favorite photographs remain the ones with the golden hues and rounded edges. To me, they seem so genuine. Why did they ever stop trimming the paper that way? I love candid shots. Photographs of people who are in the moment say so much more to me than the ones that were posed for.

Yet, I love this picture of my mother and me. See how the focus is on the tree, in the background, and we are a bit blurry? I wonder if it’s a plastic tree. We both seem slightly weary but the look my mother gave at that moment... she still has it. Still that strong.

Labels: love