Memories and morning coffee

I make photo books of our family memories. They are precious to me: these photos of our special days and ordinary moments. We have photos from our dating days and during our young marriage. We have pictures of preparing for a baby and the joy of receiving her into our home. A photo book filled with pictures from daughter’s first year.

All the devastation in our country recently made me realize these books would be one of the few things I would take with me if we were ever in a position to have to evacuate our home. There are many lovely photos, and I would be heartbroken to lose them…but they don’t show everything.

I stand in my kitchen holding a cup of tea. The Civil Wars play and the sun is streaming through the tree branches making patterns on my floor. Pancakes cook in a pan on the stove. I smell sausage browning and the new fall candle burning. From upstairs, I hear the voices of my husband and daughter laughing and talking. There’s a bit of chill in the air and I’m grateful for the warmth of my slippers.

And this is the moment I want a snapshot of most of all.

Even if I reached for my camera and took photo after photo I couldn’t capture this moment. Photos don’t hold the smells and sounds. They can’t capture my feelings this morning. The feeling of joy and gratitude. Of wonder and amazement that this is my life. And these are my people. That the small ordinary moments are what make up a life. A camera couldn’t possibly do this justice. And so,

these are the snapshots we must hold in our hearts.