My parents are moving from my childhood home this week (if the snow stops falling). It was my home for 18 years. They are actually moving less than five minutes from me, so I can’t complain, but there’s still a sense of loss. I won’t ever be able to go “home” again. Depressing? Maybe a little, but it’s been fun, too. Because of their move, I was officially forced to remove any remaining relics of my tenure there, which means I found all the knickknacks I’d been hording for years …

I’m not sentimental, but I am nostalgic. I used to keep a lot of things to remember little moments like all of the notes I passed with friends in school (we didn’t have text messages back then, you know, in all of 1996) or the corsage from my sister’s wedding. It’s hard to part with things that remind you of the times you would never take-back.

Luckily I’d read somewhere last year that if you take a picture of an object, the photograph will actually conjure the same memory and feelings the item evokes. I’d say it works. I couldn’t possibly keep all of that stuff, so I took pictures. I created a visual soundtrack to the movie that is my life, or was, in a small town in Northern Indiana. The result has been fantastic. The photos have helped me remember all sorts of cool (and uncool) things. Continue reading