With her permission I’m sharing this letter from a fellow reader. What she says deeply resonates with me and I know it will with many of you as well.
I finally got my scanner working again, and went to work on the sticky, gluey falling apart photo album my mom made of my first year so that I could put copies into my Project Life book before the photos degrade even more.
As I really looked at these pictures, something stood out to me. I noticed for the first time that the background of these pictures are all at my grandmothers’ houses, or at events with them. Every single picture of me as a baby was taken by one of my grandmothers, on their cameras. Then they must have sent duplicate prints to my mom.
My parents were too poor to even own a camera, and my mom still found a way to make this little photo album of her baby. Every picture was straight in its spot, with dates written next to the pictures, the occassion and how big I was at certain age milestones. She was capturing little moments of life before they got away from her.
How much was I loved that these three women would make the effort to document my babyhood like that? What a huge gift to me, that I am breathless about almost forty years later. Taking photos and preserving them really does communicate love.
Heatherle in Portland, OR