Generations have gathered here before us. To celebrate. To relax. To say goodbye. To heal.
Before me. Before her. Before us. When she was still a dream in my heart.
The wind rustles in the trees whispering stories of yesterday. The loons sing songs of tradition and hope.
She plays along the water’s edge as the lazy morning fog climbs through the cool morning air. It lifts up off the water’s surface. Reaching for the sun. A fresh start. A new day.
She knows nothing of the ancestors whose ashes have been sprinkled in this lake. But as she touches her toes to the water for the first time the memories of the past and the vision for the future become one.
your words and images are giving me goosebumps. such a poetic beautiful post, Christy. and such precious moments and memories. xo
thank you marina! xo
Kirstin, thank you. It’s a beautiful spot.
Connection, place, time and legacy – so much conveyed in these words and images.
Thank you so much Debbie, I am glad you feel it 🙂
You grabbed right at my heartstrings with this one, Christy. I still dream about the lake where I spent summers growing up. Just a beautiful post.
Comments are closed.