This weekend, the girls and I went to a family reunion. I think I was the most excited of the group… the drive up to Logan is a pretty one, and I was excitedly anticipating seeing cousins both close and distant.
I loved the familiar drive, pointing out spots to the girls that I remembered in our family drives when I was growing up, attending similar get-togethers.
As we neared Logan, the tears started. They would well-up in my eyes as I told them the few stories I knew of how both sides of our family started there.
That was where my maternal grandma and grandpa met.
It is also where Merrill’s paternal grandma and grandpa met.
As we neared the park where everyone was meeting, a heavy feeling set in. I knew that Grandma was there.
The feeling only intensified as we walked to the gathering, looked at old photos and scrapbooks, mingled with our family, and visited with my Grandma’s siblings. She most undoubtedly was there.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I loved feeling her presence and the presence of her parents as well, but I had to hide, preferably behind my camera so I could stay composed.
(It is a great thing to hide behind..)
It was a great day.
I also got some great pictures…
