it's two noisy weeks of splitting bathrooms eleven ways and cooking for a crowd and rousing games around the kitchen table and just like that they're gone.
[noel, mum, dad: a quick backyard portrait before flying out]
i tend to be a ridiculous version of myself when my folks are here. i'm a mess of petty and impatient, my jokes drowning in sarcasm. you'd think i'd be more careful with this small time pressed thin between years of absence.
but there's laughter too, and the sort of knowing that comes from decades of their stories twined with mine. and even if we spend half the time all up in each other's hair, these are my people.
[left: noel's 'candid' shot, right: my veryfavorite little brother]
[photo courtesy of mom]
and i'm so glad i'm theirs.
noel charading 'cocktail dress'
boxes of fabric scraps from my late grandma, hoping to become quilts
tangy bowls of vegetable soup
flannel lined sleeping bags
my dad's wheezy laugh
a fresh stack of books from the library
Ode to an Italian Market
9 hours ago