Out of nowhere a picture can bring you back to a time which has past.
It can take you to a time when you were young.
It can take you back to a place where you haven’t been in a longtime where memories were created.
The picture doesn’t even need to have a person in it to do this.
This is exactly what happened to me today. My sister found some pictures and has been scanning them. Early this morning she sent me just a few to see and one of these was a picture of a door.
This picture would mean nothing to my husband or kids. They have never stepped through this door. They don’t know whose house this door belonged to and why just seeing this picture brings tears to my eyes of people gone.
This is why I scrapbook. I scrapbook to bring life to these pictures so that my memories may live on and my stories will be told. I am a story teller. I may not be the best at journaling. My layouts will often be full of grammatical errors and occasional spelling mistake but when I’m gone people won’t be seeing that they will be reading about this house and who lived there.
This photograph won’t stay just a photograph for long. I have plans for it. Stories to share but in the meantime I will share another to show you a little more of the story.
This is my Granny with my Dad standing in the French doors at the back of the house and it is her story that I have to tell. A story of a women who travelled the world with her husband. Gave birth to my Dad on the Island of St Vincent in the West Indies. When I consider her story I think of my own. A story of a wife who has travelled the world with her husband and his work. A wife who gave birth to her son in Germany. Similar stories across the generations. Maybe now I think about it there is a little of my Granny Hatch in me and although I’m the image of my Grandmother maybe my spirit is more from the Hatch side of me.