The house is quiet now. Three little humans continue to sleep upstairs, completely unaware of the golden light that pours through the windows. A glance toward the back patio reveals towels thrown carelessly off in the midst of sprinkler play. In the quiet, my eyes scan the room and I notice the crumbs left behind on the table. Was that last nights dinner? Lunch? Who knows. It could have been three days ago. Those tiny crumbs are only visible when the light hits them just right. (Or, so I tell myself.) Oh and light. I notice the light in the morning. The way the light and the shadows seem to dance such a beautiful dance in the early morning hours. Neither one steals the show at this time of the day. Shadow and light–they are both stars. The light highlights little flip flops that have been left on the floor, trailing little feet that seemed to walk right out them. These things bother me far less when my little humans are sleeping peacefully upstairs. The scent of coffee fills the air and the sound of Lily Kershaw’s Pandora station fills my head as I sit in this place we call Home.
Home. I love Home. Filled to the brim with beauty and imperfections. The walls hold so many memories, but more than anything, the walls hold us. Home is the place we come home to. Home is the place we carry with us into all the other places we go. As the saying goes. . . home is where the heart is.
I was so happy when Timothy invited me to capture his senior pictures at home. The place where his story began. The place where he continues to write his story. The place where, after he leaves for college, he will come home to. Timothy allowed me to meet him exactly where he is. We hung out in his kitchen where he brewed tea with the mint he grew himself. We chilled on his back patio which truly is a little slice of Heaven on Earth. He told me about the plans he’s contemplating for college and the goals he has for his future while he lounged on the front steps he traipsed up and down more times than anyone could ever keep count. We walked back to the woods where he hung out with his friends and the passage of time was undeniable as the trail where little feet likely endlessly traveled was covered by the natural growth that happens on untouched land. I suspect that trampoline buried back in the woods was traded for the gym, creative endeavors, hanging out in the kitchen, and conversations with friends. While we walked, I heard stories of the days gone by while also hearing stories of the days to come. A straddling of two worlds. A seasons change from what was and what is going to be.
The things about change, though? We carry home with us. Home stays with us. We take it everywhere we go. Home is weaved into the very fabric of who we are and a part of our story that never changes. Timothy, thank you for inviting me into your home. I wish you all the best as you walk into this new season of your life. I have no doubt that the incredible story you have already begun, will only continue in the years to come.