This post is more than just a post about my vacation, it’s a photographic view of part of where I came from.
This is my grandfather, and the occasion for the vacation is his 80th birthday. He is a very special grandpa, for he helped establish my roots. He provided something stable when the goings on in my life were anything but. He is as constant as the day is long and his word is his honor.
This is the view that has always told me I’m coming home to the only unchangeable thing I ever knew. This temple is my beacon and tells me that all is well and nothing has changed. She was built by my ancestors and overlooks the cemetary where my mother lies. The stones that make up the sacred building were hand hewn from a local quarry, the furnishings inside were carved or sewn by hand; all by pioneers, some of them with my blood.
This is where my past and present collide and I get to share my history with my children.
This is where I swatted swarms of mosquitos with my son….
And this is the stuff that memories are made of.