As we move away from the purity of our births, we become complex and gnarled like trunks of trees. Underneath all the layers, the core remains the same.
“At one point, Anna was running back and forth, and I asked her to teach me how to run. She looked at me intently and replied, “Just try!”
I have taken up the endeavor of excavating the self.
I thought we had become strangers, my child-self and I. I felt as though she had gone missing. As I search through the layers I catch a glimpse of her. She’s been there, patiently waiting.
“When she climbed up on the ladder at one point, I suggested it was unsafe. Anna’s answer? “I’m eight, and I can handle it.” Well, that got me thinking. If Anna, at eight, can handle this world, I should be able to do the same.”
I was born an observer. In the years since, I have gathered my feelings and surroundings to excess. I now attempt to sort my gatherings so that maybe I can understand.
Together, it will become something. Together, we will find ourself. She has inspired me.
*Quotes are excerpts from a letter written by Chris Henry, a family friend who was recovering from a stroke.
Photographs were taken in Rochester and around Stone Ridge, New York as well as on Prince Edward Island, Canada in 2012.