I didn't have many images of my great grandmother. Although I had one that I held close to my heart through out my childhood. Every time I picked up that worn out photo I felt as though I had been transported to a time when life was so simple. There she sat on an old white porch. The off white paint flaking off showing signs of aging, The pieces of wood lifting up on their edges like a sly smile. The nails were tired from the many years they worked holding them in place. my dirt ridden white shoes with tattered laces hung over the steps as I slouched.  There she sat rocking in a chair. Back and forth. I was unsure if the creaking noise was coming from the porch or her aching knees. She had kind eyes that hung low that went back and forth with her rock. Left and right her eyes swayed taking in every text from her bible. Her frail yet strong fingers curled around the edge of her most prized possession. That book didn't leave her embrace often. I believe she feared if her death came she wanted to be holding it. She looked up and *click. The image was forever a memory, One that I could hold in my hands. My Great Grandmother left me on this Earth when I was 6 years old. All I had left of her was photos. They say people take photos of things they are scared of loosing. Every image I capture I place myself in your family.

What you want to remember?

What is your story?

What emotions do you want to feel when looking at your photos?