Never the same

It’s kind of insane how a photo captures one singular space in the timeline of your life and that moment is never. the same. again.

Some years later you look back. The looking turns to sighing and the sheer mass of things that have changed since then feels like it could crush you.

My dad and me at our family ranch

After my Grandad died, my Dad spent more time maintaining the family ranch. Taken the following spring, me and Dad (and our dog, Dusty) rest on Grandad's old blue truck.

The change knocks the breath out of you and you weep. You cave; you hold in your hands the things that weren’t known then, the ways the Lord has provided in the midst of pain, the soul-connections since with the people you love so dearly.

I think that taking pictures is a set up.

Whether you photograph that long-planned trip to the coast, a pile of letters on your kitchen table on Tuesday, Grandma’s 89th birthday at the assisted living center, or the first shy flower after a dark winter, chronicling life sets you up for the bittersweet.

Garret visited me in Aggieland for Valentines Day

We'd been dating for two years. I was a college freshman, and Garret was a highschool senior. Around Valentine's, he came to visit Aggieland and we had a goofy, sweet Valentine's date. Taken in my dorm hallway, to this day it's one of his favorite shots of us.

If you leave your heart open even just a crack, those images will eventually sneak up and stir your reflections. Both the painful, wincing remembrances and, thankfully, those joyful glimpses back into times of sweet life, too.

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