This summer is bittersweet because I’m moving away across the country. My entire family, going back to my great-great-great grandparents, are from Seattle. I come from a big family of women, and all the ladies had children young. Because of this, I’m 23 years old and have my great-grandma in my life. She’s 88 and still has her stubborn demeanour and stubborn naturally red hair. Her name is Rose but they call her Red. My middle name is Rose.
My last few months here have been about being with the people I love. I visited my grandma Rose two weeks ago in her nursing home. She’s starting to lose her memory but she still remembers me and my sister and how my great-grandpa Pat used to call us “his boys”. He always wanted boys but instead he got four daughters who then collectively had five daughters. He got a family of women.
This summer has been all about spending time with the women I love and coming together to be creative. My friend Claire and I went to high school together but didn’t actually become friends until we started working a day job together at a thrift store a year ago. So many of these photos are of her. This photo story is a love letter to my friends and family, who I call home.
