I recently read a very interesting and touching story about a woman who is now dying from cancer. I know, I know, not exactly the Monday cheery, start-my-week-off-with-bright-news, but hear me out.

She goes on to talk about how her sickness makes her see the photographs she has of her family, her kids, her husband, etc., as more than just a piece of paper with an image on it. How it represents a moment frozen in time to re-live as many times as she’s able to look at it. How she valued the photographer who made those photos for her.

It was a pretty touching story and it got me thinking of myself not only as a photographer, but as a person who also has memories, etc. stored away in albums. The school pictures. The family photos. The snapshot Mom or Dad took of my sisters and me in dresses that would have won the Dork-Award hands down, had there been one that existed back then. (As I mentioned on my website, we ROCKED those bowl cuts, baby!)

I am thankful for the photographers who have helped document memories of moments I couldn’t re-live otherwise.

Bowl-cuts and all.

(Oh and the photo below? Don't lie. You know you want to rock those green pants and Mary Janes)