Yikes, this post might make me cry.
I was a very lucky child. I came into this world when my parents were really really young. Coincidentally, both of my biological grandmothers had children right around the same time as me! True story: I have two aunts that are my age (and no, before you ask, I don’t call them “Auntie”).
Anywho, because my parents were so young (that, of course, had its own struggles) my grandparents were also really young. I was that lucky kid who knew all of her grandparents in their primes. I can remember my grandpa teaching me how to throw a football and how to tackle. My grandmother taught me how to bake and sew, and would scold me if I picked raisins out of the cookies (can you blame me?). My Papa was the toughest man I have ever met. My Grams used to stay up to the wee hours until my aunt, Rustie, and I got home from the bar! Hell, she used to call us a cab when our phones died!
I grew up very very loved
and maybe a bit spoiled.
But times have changed and like everyone eventually does, they are starting to slow down. I call my Grams on Sundays and she can’t remember who came for coffee the day before. My Grandpa refers to my cousins as my nephews and can’t get his arthritic fingers around a football. This is one of the most terrifying things I have ever witnessed. Even though I know that they won’t last forever, I wish I could just freeze time and hold on to them a little while longer.
People won’t last forever. Photographs will (ish).
I was out in Saskatchewan (home territory) last November for Rustie’s wedding and was able to sneak out to the farm for a visit. Alex got stuck helping out Papa (the city boy in him loves this) but I got a chance to hang with Grams (we drink copious amounts of chai tea) and go on a photo adventure. I went around all of my old haunts and childhood kingdoms. Rustie and I used to pretend that the hay bales were our castle and that fairies would leave us notes in the tumbleweeds. I won’t even tell you about the terrifying haunted house up the road – we were convinced an evil witch lived there.
For Christmas I made an album of the photos I took for my grandparents and my mom. Even though one day they will be gone at least I have my memories of the placed we shared captured beautifully. I only regret not being able to do that for my other set of grandparents – they retired and sold their farm ages ago when I was still little.
I am officially crying.
Here is Rustie’s Instagram of her opening the album with my mom:
and of the photos in her home:
I would like to share with you all a few of my favourite photos of the farm.