There is something about being with family that sends you back in time. Visiting my grandmother’s house in Ohio, along with my Mom, brother and sister, was one of those experiences.
It made me remember who I am, where I come from, but also who I am not.
It reminded me that I am my father’s daughter, and I have much in common with the family on his side. The homebody part of me. The introspective, thinking part of me. The part that wants solitude and time in the woods.
It also reminded me how much I am my own person, how much I’ve changed since childhood, but how easy it is to slip into expected roles. It’s as if we all step into our scripted places, when together. We aren’t always our real selves. It’s too hard to be, with so little time with each other.
But it was a reminder, of who I was, where I came from, and who I am now. A beautiful, poignant reminder.
All images are from my Grandmother’s house in Holmes County, Ohio, and processed using the Vintage Photo app.
This was a poignant post, Kat, and your photos suit it perfectly. I have no “home” to go back to, since the last of the older generation in my family passed away years ago. My siblings and our children are scattered all around the country. Perhaps that’s one reason living here in Maine, so different from where I grew up (Las Vegas), draws me so strongly. There’s a sense of history and of rootedness – even if they are not my own roots – that means a great deal to me.