Scott
and I moved into this house in January 2005. We were newly married and
childless, yet I instantly envisioned raising a family in this home. We
loved the small stream trickling at the bottom of the woods, the big
windows and the exposed beams in the living room. From the moment we
moved in our first boxes, I knew that I was going to create a memory
wall in the living room.
Time went on, children were born and I became busy with work. Photos were piled and moved into boxes instead of being displayed. I knew that someday I would work on my wall, but time was always in short supply.
With Timmy and I on germ lock down, I found myself with both the time and the motivation to finally create my wall. I spent hours framing and hanging our photos, some posed and some casually captured, on my memory wall. I am almost done with the existing photos, but I am loving the results. In the early morning, while Timmy is drinking his milk and watching a cartoon, I find myself looking at the wall and smiling. If my children ever lament their childhoods, I am just going to show them the wall, filled with wonderful memories and adventures.
As I was digging through boxes, I found a slew of photos from years before I knew Scott. Many I put into boxes and labeled for another time. Some, mostly of family members and a few friends, were hung downstairs in the new playroom.Robby enjoys looking at the photos of my more youthful years, and is quick to point out nuances that he notices.
One particular photo has struck his interest, but not for the reasons I expected. The boardwalk "Old Time" photo (something I try to do whenever possible) captured my friend Tammy and I when we were fresh out of college. I thought for sure that Robby would remark on the slightly saucy outfit I was wearing (we chose the wild west cantina girl costumes). While I was correct that it was my appearance that struck Robby as odd, it had nothing to do with the costume I was wearing.
The photo was taken in 1996, before my foot was injured. This snapshot was the first time Robby has ever seen me with two biological legs. I was taken aback by his revelation, but upon further reflection I guess it makes sense. While I'm sure I have some pictures tucked away in photo albums somewhere, I don't have full body photos of myself (especially pre-injury) displayed. All of the photos of my childhood, college years and early adulthood tend to be focused on my face.
He viewed the photo as a curiosity not because I was twenty years younger, but because it showed a part of me that he had never before seen. It definitely feels weird knowing that my son had never seen my biological leg. Sometimes it is refreshing to be reminded that, in his eyes, my being an amputee is just who I am and is neither unusual nor an oddity.
Time went on, children were born and I became busy with work. Photos were piled and moved into boxes instead of being displayed. I knew that someday I would work on my wall, but time was always in short supply.
With Timmy and I on germ lock down, I found myself with both the time and the motivation to finally create my wall. I spent hours framing and hanging our photos, some posed and some casually captured, on my memory wall. I am almost done with the existing photos, but I am loving the results. In the early morning, while Timmy is drinking his milk and watching a cartoon, I find myself looking at the wall and smiling. If my children ever lament their childhoods, I am just going to show them the wall, filled with wonderful memories and adventures.
As I was digging through boxes, I found a slew of photos from years before I knew Scott. Many I put into boxes and labeled for another time. Some, mostly of family members and a few friends, were hung downstairs in the new playroom.Robby enjoys looking at the photos of my more youthful years, and is quick to point out nuances that he notices.
One particular photo has struck his interest, but not for the reasons I expected. The boardwalk "Old Time" photo (something I try to do whenever possible) captured my friend Tammy and I when we were fresh out of college. I thought for sure that Robby would remark on the slightly saucy outfit I was wearing (we chose the wild west cantina girl costumes). While I was correct that it was my appearance that struck Robby as odd, it had nothing to do with the costume I was wearing.
The photo was taken in 1996, before my foot was injured. This snapshot was the first time Robby has ever seen me with two biological legs. I was taken aback by his revelation, but upon further reflection I guess it makes sense. While I'm sure I have some pictures tucked away in photo albums somewhere, I don't have full body photos of myself (especially pre-injury) displayed. All of the photos of my childhood, college years and early adulthood tend to be focused on my face.
He viewed the photo as a curiosity not because I was twenty years younger, but because it showed a part of me that he had never before seen. It definitely feels weird knowing that my son had never seen my biological leg. Sometimes it is refreshing to be reminded that, in his eyes, my being an amputee is just who I am and is neither unusual nor an oddity.
I love that my kids think I'm normal. And I'm obsessed with taking pictures (less so as they get old enough to tell their own stories about themselves), especially of the kids and/or us having fun as a family.
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