Somebody tell her to step away from the computer.

Dear friends,

I beg for your forbearance.

I’m adrift in a sea of unrestrained nostalgia. It all started with this post and the photos of my kids I took last weekend before the Sweetheart Dance.

After creating that post, I spent a couple of hours wading through the hundreds (thousands?) of photos we managed to recover after my computer crash.

You know that beautiful 18-year-old girl who looked so grown up in her party dress and sensible Toms?

Yesterday, she looked like this:

I promise it was yesterday. I remember it like it was yesterday so it had to be yesterday.

And that 6’4″ handsome boy in the shirt and tie? He looked like this last week.

I bet you won’t be surprised to hear I cried — big ol’ weepy tears — on the day Parker insisted on cutting off those curls. It broke my heart and I’ll never be the same. (I’m praying for a grandson with curls. It’s my only hope for emotional redemption. Once you’ve lived with beautiful-boy curls like those, you never want to live without them.)

Oh, and I found this photo:

It’s the best photo I’ve ever snapped on the best family vacation we ever took. This photo was taken on our mountain. Our mountain that I don’t talk about anymore, lest I cry. Someday . . . someday I’ll tell you the story.

And just look at this little slice of heaven:

I grew a wildflower garden in my backyard for several summers in our old home. It made me happy every single day of the growing season. And it’s the only old photo that didn’t make me want to cry . . . because I can’t make my teenagers babies again, but I can plant another wildflower garden in our new place. You can bet I’ll be getting on that as soon as the last freeze is safely past us. I should warn you, though, if I’m successful, you might be seeing a lot of wildflower photos on my blog this summer.

I also found this shot, one of a series of photos of our former home I took one evening at sunset. I had seen a similar photo in a magazine and desperately wanted a shot like that of my home. A photographer-friend gave me tips on using a tripod and a long exposure — and two hundred photos later, I had a handful of photographs that perfectly captured a summer evening at our home.

I’ll never forget that evening, or that view of our house on my hometown’s brick-paved streets.

I’ll never forget any of these moments, actually. They are treasures all, entwined around my heart so tightly it takes my breath away.

With gratitude {for a lifetime of mostly happy memories, many of them captured on film},

Joan, who loves her words, every single one of them, but knows these photos say it all


  1. Those eyes….those startling blue eyes….

    I have long been a not-so-secret Luddite when it comes to storing digital photos on my computer as an “only” source of our photographic memories. The fear at the center? That the photos will be lost some way, inaccessible after an OS change or some software update gone awry. Your rescued/recovered photo stories serve to both bolster my fear and reassure me that in the case of the eventual computer crash*, nothing would be gone, gone. Just hard(er) to retrieve. (*around here that computer crash scenario is never an “if” but rather a “when” question.)

    Weep away lady. You take your time. You have two beautiful kids, aaaaaand the photos to prove it!

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