Old School

Yesterday, my husband and I spent the day together.

We began the day picking up some secondhand camera lenses. Bargain of the day, great investment.

We shared breakfast at Cracker Barrel, picked up some groceries, attended the memorial service for a dear friend of mine and did a bit of shopping.

We drove on back roads, twisting through small towns, enjoying the autumn breeze and absolutely perfect weather. On our way back home, we stopped in West Concord, the town where my husband attended grade school. The original school building, built in 1902, has since been converted into a community center and historical society.

Walking around the partially dilapidated building, I asked my husband to share memories of his childhood with me. He showed me where the cafeteria was, places kids on the playground hung out, and the room where he learned to use his very first tool. A hand saw. If only that teacher knew how important introducing that hand saw in kindergarten would be to Keith's future.

Old brick calls out to the photographer in me.
I am eternally grateful that my husband allows me to primp and pose him in my photographer's mind's eye. Occasionally, I even get a shot that makes me smile.

Love the ones you're with.
Never forget where you came from.



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