I am a nostalgic person by nature. I am constantly reminiscing, daydreaming about past experiences, missing childhood magic. My personal journal is full of stories from my past, the things I have thought i'd forgotten forever...and then suddenly remembered. My nostalgia has been at a high point lately, as I think is normal after ending a "chapter in life." Because of this, I have been spending a lot of time looking through all of the old scanned film photos I have on my computer. Since I got my first vintage film camera at the age of 14, I've shot countless rolls & i treasure each and every one of them for their magic and uniqueness. They tell a story in a way digital photos don't.
Stories like this one that is so dear to me:
About five or six years ago, my sister & i were playing with our little cousin, Flynn (who might as well be our little brother.) In my parents garden, he discovered a sweet, pitiful baby bird who had just recently passed away. Flynn named her Ruby (possibly because it was much more simple than the last bird we buried, who he named "dirty birdie red fred john") and we promptly carried out a funeral in her honor.
We said a few sweet words and a simple goodbye. Flynn buried her with wildflowers he found in the yard, and then covered her in earth.
At the end, he found a stick to place over her grave so that he could "know where to find her."
Flynn is now ten and still has a huge heart.
He makes me proud.