Photographs

As I write this (after a long absence, but in writing, as with prayer, I’ve learned to celebrate what gets sent out into the world, rather than lament all that doesn’t get that far), it is the season of Christmas. 

I moved from Norwood in mid-February, 2020, so I’m approaching two years in this new-old place, the city of St. Louis where I was born and lived all but fourteen years of my life. Those fourteen years in Norwood mean that as long as I remain here, my heart will have all these friend-shaped holes. So I go back to visit when I can.

My most recent visit took place shortly before Christmas. During my three days in town, I spent a good long afternoon with my dear friend Juli and her delightful family–decorating sugar cookies with colorful icing and sprinkles, reminiscing about the days we lived on different floors of a two-family flat, just generally reveling in all the old stories and jokes.

Towards the end of our time together, Juli brought out a cache of photographs–real, physical photographs, taken with an actual camera. She’d been the photographer for the Moriah Pie cookbook project; she’d spent season after season documenting every aspect, it seems, of the ecosystem of that restaurant. She had all sorts of photos left over, she explained, and invited me to take whatever I wished.

Now I have a collection of captured moments featuring familiar faces—Dave rolling out pizza dough in the kitchen, Leslie rejoicing in a pumpkin pie covered with fresh whipping cream, neighborhood children gathered for a homegrown parade, Erin leading a tour of the chicken coop. I feel the vibrancy of that life when I see these images. I miss it, but I also feel inspired to seek such goodness in my new-0ld home.