I've been contemplating what photography means to me.
Wait. Back up.
That sentence is lame. Really lame.
Sounds like the beginning to a fifth grader's career essay.
But let's all remember that I don't fancy myself a writer. I'm just a girl with a computer.
I never really understood my mom's (HI LONA!) fixation with taking pictures of us as kids until after that day.
That day being the day my brother passed away. A mere 14 hours later, my daughter was born. That whole time of my life is really fuzzy in my head, which is probably the way I was able to cope with the rush of emotions that only death and new life can bring.
My most vivid memory of the 48 hours following my daughter's birth is sitting at my parents' dining room table going through stacks and stacks of photos from Travis' childhood. They were the tangibles. They were something we could hold and touch. Little moments of his life that we were able to relive even if they were just printed on glorified pieces of paper.
Don't tell my mom, (HI LONA!) but a few of my favorites may have ended up in my purse somehow.
But I get it now, Mom.
The photos are the tangibles.