Sometimes I find my emotional connection to images in the strangest of places.
A ladder. A step ladder at that. One probably purchased at Walmart, with drops of paint, and wood glue. the odd patch of duct tape from a long ago project. The same ladder has probably sat in thousands of home. Overlooked as simply a tool.
This same ladder I held still for my mom (brand new without the spots and splats of time) as she hung the pictures in our first apartment as we struck out on our own. I have countless memories of dragging out this ladder to watch mom reach and stretch. To build and assemble. On this ladder she taught me to do for myself.
So when my new background came, and I searched for just the right seat to see how it photographed, this old standby had its moment. And I started getting a nostalgic over a simple stool.
Grief can be weird. It can come up to you at weird times, triggered by something mundane. It can bring back tears or a soft smile. It can make you grateful for a thousand tiny moments, thought long forgotten in their insignificance.
Simply holding a stool for your parent. At the time annoyed that I was interrupted from my current task or game. And suddenly its a rediscovered memory to hold dear. Suddenly this ladder is a shortcut to that file, should I wish to explore it.
Grief can be weird. But hey, I've got this ladder.
*All outfits pictured are available in the client closet.
Location: In-Home Studio in Grande Prairie, Alberta.