the 4th of october {89 years later)

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for as long as i can remember, this image has been etched into my mind. just recently i went digging around in my stash of family collectibles in order to find it. this, my grandfather, having just made the journey from his home in Nova Scotia… traveling days (weeks? months?) over dirt backroads stopping frequently to change flat tires in his model T and coming to pause here on these very cobblestones before the great City Hall in Portland Maine.

oh my heart.

it’s October 4th 1925 {written in his own handwriting} the man i never met, the man called Bumpa who died a month before i was born. the man who left his home at a young age and became a naturalized citizen, who played the saxophone and worked at New England Life, who married my grammy and raised my dad, who died of rheumatoid arthritis in the winter of 1975. the engagement ring i wear today (the one that catches sunlight and shoots prisms and rainbows from my hand as a constant reminder of love love love) belonged to this man’s mother, my great-grandmother. the stories of family are never ending, always growing and multiplying, always seeming to come back full circle in the most comforting way… because on October 3rd 2014 {i happened to find this image} i happened to be in Portland, tidying up my tintype studio, running errands, enjoying the sunshine of an early fall day in a city i very much love…. it takes my breath, the serendipity, the circle, the place i was drawn to and now call home.

{89 years later}

me. here. now. right where he stood. the same cobblestones preserved in this city that allows time to pass and objects, stories, memories and loved ones to remain.

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