Month: March 2019

Weathered

Posted on by Lauren

A fire.

Roaring flames lick your face, the heat so oppressive you are forced to stand back to marvel at the demonstration.

A flaunt of power, an ignition of energy. Dangerously beautiful is this virgin blaze.

Time passes. Kindling sparse. The flames, once so bright, begin to dim.

Now approachable, friends find a spot to gather- round this comfortable, broken-in space.  Reaching in to warm their hands, absorbing the heat this tired fire has left to give.

The inevitable awaits.

Will this fire burn out?

Or will it scream for someone to feed it?

The story is the same.  A mother, a teacher, a doctor, a cleaner.  A social worker, an athlete, a therapist, an artist.

We begin ablaze, set to conquer.  Eager to learn, eager to share.

Weathered, we abate.

And subconsciously or not, we decide.

Feed the fire?

Or let it die?

I feast.

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Camille Vaughan Photography 

 

 

The End & It’s Beginning

Posted on by Lauren

They see opportunity, I see the end of an era.

They see a new purpose, I see the memories.

I’ve never been a big fan of thrift stores, yard or estate sales, but it wasn’t until today, when my elderly neighbor’s estate sale went “live” that I understood why.

I don’t see a record player, I hear the music it played over the decades.

I don’t see a dresser, I see the clothes it housed for birthdays, beach days, and every days.

They see dishes, I see Thanksgiving dinner.

They see a chair, I see the person who used to sit in it.

To many, they are just things.

To me, they are a story.

Of a life lived.

Of a past, now gone.

Of a future, without these things.

Perhaps this isn’t their end.

It’s just a new beginning.

 

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Keep Playing

 

Elisabeth

Posted on by Lauren

Her name was Elisabeth but she was to be called “Beth”.

She was tall with long, wavy brown hair and the face of an angel because, she was an angel.

I was just 11 years old, when I saw her in my pantry.

I was searching for a snack.  My mom passed me by with a laundry basket full of clothes.

I paid no mind until I heard, from what seemed a distance, “Lauuuuureeeennn.”

I replied, “YEA?!”

No answer.

“YEA?!”

And then I felt it.

An energy.  A tingling on the back of my neck.  A movement of air.

I turned and she took my breath away.

She was beautiful, and without hesitation, I knew exactly who she was.

Elisabeth.

In her white dress, floating.

A smile crept upon her face, as if to say, “I’m here.  I see you. I’m with you, always.”

And then she evaporated right before my very eyes.

Immediately, I felt my heart restart, pumping so hard, I could feel it through my chest.  I gasped for air and screamed out for my mother.

She came downstairs and I pleaded with her, already knowing the answer, “Mom.  Did you call my name?  Did you CALL MY NAME?!”

She, confused and concerned, reassured me that she hadn’t.

Shaking, I processed what I had seen and felt and have kept close to my heart for the last 25 years.

I had seen her, my sister Elisabeth, gone before I was born.

And today, I see her still, in the face of my daughter, Elizabeth Joy.

My guardian angel.

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Captured by Katie McCracken