when we got married, almost 13 years ago, it was a tiny little family gathering on our back porch. and we were fortunate enough to have 4 of our grandparents still living and able to share the day with us. my grandfather was 98 then (he lived another 7 years), and my grandmother, his wife of 71 years, had died 3 years before. that afternoon in september, our families were mingling, getting to know each other, really. and he was drawn to tom's granny. he sat beside her on the wicker loveseat in the late day september sun, and took her hand in his. he sat holding her hand. i don't know what he was feeling, but i think he had a little rustle of love in his belly. comfort. excitement. that fresh little warm flood of joy. sharing a little humanity. i think of that moment often. i think my grandpa had a little flush of butterflies that day. and maybe tom's granny too. she sent a card and a letter a couple years later for his 100th birthday. and often asked about him. a little crush perhaps. but at the very least, a warm dreamy moment shared. holding hands. and a few days ago, it was tom's granny's funeral we went to, the last of our grandparents.
this sunday, the 17th of february, we are having a sale at the studio. the little white house at 55 mowat ave will be open from 10 until 5. come visit and wander through the rooms of quilts and books and sterling jewelry. share a little conversation and break up the monotony of winter.
Photographs Made With Pens
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