THE TATTERED BOX
january 16, 2018
At 15 years old, my family unit was torn apart. When I made my first home, I was given the box full of family photos that my mother took of us growing up. Some days, I'd open it with tears and others, total laughter. But, from house to house I would go, dragging this tattered box around; almost like a child's blanket.
For years, I viewed this as a curse, until I realized - these are my last untarnished memories of a full family.
I think about this box, all the power that it contains, and my incessant nostalgic feelings growing from a child to an adult; reviewing and hoarding every still photo that I can find.
As I capture, I look to remember every last detail; dedicating my life to you - the nostalgic one. My heart is to see you for the way that you currently are, without the fog of what you think you should be. For it isn't about a posed smile, but the lasting gazes at your loved ones.
And possibly, with these still framed moments, your own daughter will drag around her tattered box, just to remember that nostalgic connection long after she's left your home.
-- Candice B.