Mother braids daughter's hair in South Florida bathtub.


Because this is love captured on digital film. Because life is messy, hair is meant to be tangled, and there’s a tired yet healed smile you only have for those kids. Because in a world where the grass always seems greener, where we’re always supposed to want to be someone else living another and supposedly better life, it’s important to fall in love with your own.



I see what you can’t see. There’s a beauty in everything around you. A sense of imperfect sweetness amidst the chaos. You don’t NEED to do those dishes. (Admittedly I am just using this as an excuse not to do my own dishes, but listen, that’s hardly the point).

I grew up in South Florida with a disposable camera in one hand and a pink Barbie diary in the other. I saw things big and in color. What I loved in books I yearned to create in my own life. Pens and cameras are only tools if you can’t see the things others don’t in between the cracks. The exchange of glances between parents, the way mom reaches out to adjust rogue strands of her daughter’s hair, capable arms reaching out to shield children from falling. These are the ways we really communicate, the ways we say we love.



Your life is not boring. To your children your lives are the whole world. Childhood is large. Limitless. You take them to the moon and back all before breakfast. I remember how it could feel back then. So vividly...

Childhood in Florida was orange popsicles from the yellow box, sticky hands on the front door knob. Warmth on the skin, cool winds prickling as we rode our bikes with tangled hair flying fast. Deep blue skies and my little porch house. Jumping in the pool, flips for the unafraid. Learned at gymnastics classes, brought home to crash into the waves. Always swimming.

I remember it all and with my photos so will they.

They will remember they were brave. They will remember they were loved. You will remember how well you did the loving.

Open your eyes and see.