I’m learning that old pictures don’t always come in order. They arrive like loose pages from different chapters of my life. A house by the water. A parade float. A squirrel eating bird seed. A red old house. A bird, a taco shop, a donut shop, a sunset, my trike, and a few familiar faces from places I’ve been.
This folder feels like that to me — not one single story, but a collection of proof that I was moving through the world and noticing things.
Some pictures are beautiful. Some are funny. Some are ordinary. Some probably meant more to me in the moment than I can fully explain now. But I like having them together. They remind me that life is made from these little scenes, and that even when I don’t know exactly where I’m headed, I’m still gathering pieces of the journey.
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