Photo Albums
It's really too bad I never got a picture of Hosea with his sequined purse. I bought it for him at the dollar store last year--one of those flippy sequined things that you can make pictures on. Anyway, with all his bottle collecting and refund money he needed a place to keep his wealth! So I'd reminded him about his little zip up sequined purse, and he'd been using it for all his change. Often he'd take the change out and count it. Count the number of coins, that is. Over and over and over. Stack them. Count them again. Sort them.
He'd carry that purse around too, sometimes.
And then, just when I thought to myself I should REALLY capture this memory on film...well...he lost it. Or maybe I did. I'm not sure which.
But it's gone, outside somewhere in the neighbourhood, probably picked up by some kid who likes shiny things, or anyone who likes money--for that matter.
Hosea never cried about this. Just showed disappointment and acceptance.
I felt bad for him--this was actually the second time he'd lost a coin purse with coins in it!
But this time I felt bad myself too. Partly because I felt a bit responsible for its loss (honestly I have NO idea what happened to it!) and partly because I'd bought it for him. But mostly because he wouldn't be carrying it around anymore! And I hadn't even gotten a picture to capture the memory and then write about!
When I was a kid I used to love looking through my grandma's photo albums. I'd sit on the floor of she and my grandpa's "study"--as they called it--and devour them! Every time they seemed full of new treasures to me. Under each photo would be captions, quotes, memories, labels. I didn't have to know all the people, it was all laid out for me. But, even better if I knew the people, because this would allow me to know them more.
Remember when you used to take photos with film? And drop them off at the drug store and wait to pick them up and see your memories again? Some of the shots wouldn't be so great. Actually...probably most of them! Some of the shots you'd have completely forgotten taking. Some might not have even turned out. Maybe you'd keep them in their envelope, or put a few on the fridge or in a letter or in a frame. Maybe you'd put them in a book, like my grandma did. Big surprise: I did that too!
I started making photo albums when I was probably around 10. I must've had my own camera by that time, and I'd document things like summer camps, church events, hanging out with neighbours and cousins. As I got older I took lots of photos with friends, at slumber parties, with boyfriends. I'd put them all into albums and then write things under them, just like my grandma did. It was a beautiful ritual! Like painting my nails to my favourite Counting Crows album on Saturday nights.
After my first big break up I went through and took out all the photos of me and the person. Crossed off the writing. Covered it up with new photos. What a process!
Then, after my next big break up I did the same thing. Only this relationship had been several years, so that was an even bigger job. I'd say it was therapeutic, in a painful and cathartic kind of way! I still remember sitting on my floor doing it, likely full of tears and rage and denial, and then shoving the stack of photos into an envelope never to be opened again! (But I still have it...somewhere!)
I keep this blog here, for longer writing. I purposefully don't use many images here. It's just for writing. But, as you know--because you are probably getting here from facebook--I do a lot of documenting things from life...photos, captions, stories. And I do that on another blog too, a personal one, about the story of some lives here in this home of mine.
When I was pregnant with Greta it was Matthew's idea to start a blog about the journey. At that time I didn't even know what a blog was!! Ha! Anyway, he posted things here and there as we awaited her birth, and then afterwards, as he faded out of it, I took over. I realized this would be the way to do what my grandma had done with her life--in the digital age.
So, I have this family blog, and I've had it since before Greta was born. And every so often (only 3 times so far, in fact) I will have it printed off, into a beautiful, bounded, official book, full of colour photos and all the writing and reflecting I did.
Tonight Therese and Hosea saw me typing up a new post on that blog, about Hosea's birthday (I'm a little behind...I have too many burners on I think!) and Therese got inspired to look at her "baby book"--that's what she calls it. The other books that were supposed to be "baby books" for the kids, with real photos and mementos to put in them, well, they are sitting here on my desk, stacked and unfinished years later. I can't do everything.
But I can keep that family blog.
Therese was enjoying so much looking through the book before bed tonight. Laughing at the photos, at how cute she was, at how little Greta was, seeing how things used to be. I can't take all that out, like I did with my other photo albums, and sometimes I forget it's all sitting there in those 3 books. Right in my living room.
Every so often she'd want to point something out to me to look at. Inside I'd feel kind of like I should've "taken those photos out!" , "put them in an envelope!"...but...it doesn't work that way this time. And it's not just my life in there. For one thing it's hers, and Greta's, and Hosea's too. And I want it to be there for them to look through and remember and watch as it changes and morphs and flows. The story.
And I guess there will be enough things LIKE the sequined coined purse that will appear in that story. After all, no story can capture everything, can it?
That's what keeps me writing!
"Mama are you still making these books about us now, is that what you were doing tonight?" Therese asked me as I left her room so she could go to sleep, "Yep, I am!" I said. "Are you going to do it even when we're teenagers?" she asked. "Yeah, I sure am, I'll do it when you're teenagers too, allllllll the way up." And she smiled with such reassured satisfaction. "Good", she said.
He'd carry that purse around too, sometimes.
And then, just when I thought to myself I should REALLY capture this memory on film...well...he lost it. Or maybe I did. I'm not sure which.
But it's gone, outside somewhere in the neighbourhood, probably picked up by some kid who likes shiny things, or anyone who likes money--for that matter.
Hosea never cried about this. Just showed disappointment and acceptance.
I felt bad for him--this was actually the second time he'd lost a coin purse with coins in it!
But this time I felt bad myself too. Partly because I felt a bit responsible for its loss (honestly I have NO idea what happened to it!) and partly because I'd bought it for him. But mostly because he wouldn't be carrying it around anymore! And I hadn't even gotten a picture to capture the memory and then write about!
When I was a kid I used to love looking through my grandma's photo albums. I'd sit on the floor of she and my grandpa's "study"--as they called it--and devour them! Every time they seemed full of new treasures to me. Under each photo would be captions, quotes, memories, labels. I didn't have to know all the people, it was all laid out for me. But, even better if I knew the people, because this would allow me to know them more.
Remember when you used to take photos with film? And drop them off at the drug store and wait to pick them up and see your memories again? Some of the shots wouldn't be so great. Actually...probably most of them! Some of the shots you'd have completely forgotten taking. Some might not have even turned out. Maybe you'd keep them in their envelope, or put a few on the fridge or in a letter or in a frame. Maybe you'd put them in a book, like my grandma did. Big surprise: I did that too!
I started making photo albums when I was probably around 10. I must've had my own camera by that time, and I'd document things like summer camps, church events, hanging out with neighbours and cousins. As I got older I took lots of photos with friends, at slumber parties, with boyfriends. I'd put them all into albums and then write things under them, just like my grandma did. It was a beautiful ritual! Like painting my nails to my favourite Counting Crows album on Saturday nights.
After my first big break up I went through and took out all the photos of me and the person. Crossed off the writing. Covered it up with new photos. What a process!
Then, after my next big break up I did the same thing. Only this relationship had been several years, so that was an even bigger job. I'd say it was therapeutic, in a painful and cathartic kind of way! I still remember sitting on my floor doing it, likely full of tears and rage and denial, and then shoving the stack of photos into an envelope never to be opened again! (But I still have it...somewhere!)
I keep this blog here, for longer writing. I purposefully don't use many images here. It's just for writing. But, as you know--because you are probably getting here from facebook--I do a lot of documenting things from life...photos, captions, stories. And I do that on another blog too, a personal one, about the story of some lives here in this home of mine.
When I was pregnant with Greta it was Matthew's idea to start a blog about the journey. At that time I didn't even know what a blog was!! Ha! Anyway, he posted things here and there as we awaited her birth, and then afterwards, as he faded out of it, I took over. I realized this would be the way to do what my grandma had done with her life--in the digital age.
So, I have this family blog, and I've had it since before Greta was born. And every so often (only 3 times so far, in fact) I will have it printed off, into a beautiful, bounded, official book, full of colour photos and all the writing and reflecting I did.
Tonight Therese and Hosea saw me typing up a new post on that blog, about Hosea's birthday (I'm a little behind...I have too many burners on I think!) and Therese got inspired to look at her "baby book"--that's what she calls it. The other books that were supposed to be "baby books" for the kids, with real photos and mementos to put in them, well, they are sitting here on my desk, stacked and unfinished years later. I can't do everything.
But I can keep that family blog.
Therese was enjoying so much looking through the book before bed tonight. Laughing at the photos, at how cute she was, at how little Greta was, seeing how things used to be. I can't take all that out, like I did with my other photo albums, and sometimes I forget it's all sitting there in those 3 books. Right in my living room.
Every so often she'd want to point something out to me to look at. Inside I'd feel kind of like I should've "taken those photos out!" , "put them in an envelope!"...but...it doesn't work that way this time. And it's not just my life in there. For one thing it's hers, and Greta's, and Hosea's too. And I want it to be there for them to look through and remember and watch as it changes and morphs and flows. The story.
And I guess there will be enough things LIKE the sequined coined purse that will appear in that story. After all, no story can capture everything, can it?
That's what keeps me writing!
"Mama are you still making these books about us now, is that what you were doing tonight?" Therese asked me as I left her room so she could go to sleep, "Yep, I am!" I said. "Are you going to do it even when we're teenagers?" she asked. "Yeah, I sure am, I'll do it when you're teenagers too, allllllll the way up." And she smiled with such reassured satisfaction. "Good", she said.
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