Hi everyone! I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Thanksgiving surrounded by loved ones and good food.
Thanksgiving has always been a weird holiday for me. Especially since the past few years I’ve become increasingly aware of how things I have grown used to mean different things to different people; the fact that many Native American people treat Thanksgiving as a day of mourning is certainly something to make me stop and think. My feelings for the holiday are conflicted. I know that I am lucky and that great tragedy and pain has led to me being able to have the life I have today. It’s not that I feel less thankful, it’s that I feel the weight of the path that led us here more. If anything it makes me feel like I appreciate what I have more. It’s a hard subject to think about.
Photos all taken by the amazing Brittany at Brittany Martorella Photography
Love is full of clichés, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He really does know me better than I know myself. He is my light, my best friend, my home. He gives me butterflies and drives me absolutely insane, sometimes at the same time.
I could prattle on forever with quotes from literature or movies about love and how profound it is. I could compare our love to that of the greats, the idols of romantic relationships, but none of that really seems accurate.
You know how sometimes you’ll think about something completely random that happened years ago and then can’t stop thinking about it? Time for a story, everyone.
When I was in high school I was painfully awkward and shy, and the times that I wasn’t shy the awkward took over and tended to make everything just weird. Like a cluster of weird.
So the choir I was in went on a trip to perform at the Dizzy Gillespie Jazz Festival upstate in a town called Cheraw. Everything was great about performing and listening to the music, seeing the town.