the old office was a sea of dust and papers, punctuated with occasional waves of photographs, piled in boxes, strewn across the floor like specks of froth atop the ocean. it was the photos that drew me in, though i couldn't tell you what drove me to open the door in the first place.

old dusty houses of grandparents, or treasure troves of memory, if you have a family like mine. my depression era grandmother surfaces in these photos, 1940s and fabulous, all legs and pinup girl smile. she was a legend in our family, singing, dancing, acting, and fighting for social justice until old age forced her to slow down and dementia stole her memories. now i spend many days with her, holding hands and listening to music, taking naps, and trying to help her not feel afraid and alone. it is an honor and a joy.

but this all really began in the office. i crawled around on my hands and knees, discovering all these memories like a vein of diamonds in ore. i was sick with it, overjoyed and dizzy with a kind of riotous joyful grief for all the things lost and all the things found. my mother, at 23, doe eyed, strawberry blond, shy smiling and graceful as a willow. it was a side of her i scarcely ever saw, and i can't begin to say how much it was missed. my father, with me as a toddler, already in hopeless lifelong adoration of eachother. we have been best friends from the day i was born.

in the midst of this cacophany of glorious history, i realized slowly that these were my grandfather's photos. he passed on almost a decade ago now, when the lymphoma finally won. this realization spurred me on, and i renewed my search for pictures with vigor. boxes opened with the stories of my life, my family's lives, our birthdays, weddings, graduations, baby showers, and all of the beautiful children, growing and changing and making more children, generation after generation.

in a corner of a closet, buried under files, was a large leather hardcase with a strap. inside was a canon ae-1, still loaded with film, in perfect condition with a 50mm lens on the front. i stared reverently at my find. i knew it was my grandpa's old camera. i almost shook, picking it up for the first time, and i was overcome with a longing to never be apart from it again. the moment i first held that camera i knew i was meant to give it back it's life. it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since.