Our Idahome

What childhood will you remember? The way I helped you find the sleeve of your sweater, you held up your hair while I fastened the buttons of your blouse. The act of dressing you, the love.

What will you remember? The adventure of the rocks, lapped by waves. The slight stickiness of ice cream between your fingers, held in mine. The way I want to breathe you in and exhale the heft of my love for you.

Beg you to remember the strength of your legs, scaling the rocks, conquering fallen trees. The chill of the wind early in the morning, the sun dancing in your hair and sand trickling out of your pant cuffs leaving a small island of beach behind you on the blanket. The bread I made for you, torn in hunks and stuffed into laughing mouths. A loose tooth, dangling, its very last day with you before your smile changes, again, growing into yourself more and more, glimpses and glimpses of the wonders you are and will become.

See the photojournal collaboration with CouCou Boston here.