Pictures | Memory Lane

"Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us."
~Oscar Wilde

Friends and family are so important- this past week, nothing has become apparent than that. While I was visiting my grandparents this weekend for father’s day, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. I started looking through their photo albums; I love old photographs. Soon enough the whole family was flipping through the albums and telling stories- I’m sure the laughter and storytelling were audible to anyone who walked by.

Those kind of times are the best kind of times; looking back on the moments that have made us, us.

While I was sitting there, surrounded by my family and our memories, I had an idea. A light bulb moment; because what has also become glaringly apparent over this past week, is that CANON is going to keep my camera as long as they feel like- while I sit here and wait, camera less.

So while I wait for those goons at CANON to fix my ailing camera, this blog is going to become a great big about me page!


When I was eight years old my grandmother took my cousin and I on a four week trip to Trinidad. Two words- Culture. Shock. My cousin and I are both born in Canada and we had become rather accustomed to our North American lifestyle, and Trinidad was a whole lot different at the time. Needless to say, it was a trip. For instance my cousin had a bug fly in her ear.

Most homes have tin roofs and the windows (if there are windows) are kept open at all times- it’s all about a cross breeze in that climate. So one night we're laying in the dark and my cousin starts losing it “grandma, grandma- a bug flew in my ear”. It was pandemonium; my great grandmother and grandmother panicking, while my cousin is freaking. Funnily enough, I don’t remember the outcome; they may have gone to the hospital, they may not have- I don’t remember. Eight year olds have an amazing capacity to sleep through anything.

One afternoon I had my very own run in with tropical insects; my Trinidadian cousins and I were playing outside, when they started stomping on a patch of ants. I, being eight years old and game for anything, started doing the same; but these weren’t just ants, they were some kind of stinging ant. The following scene, as you can imagine, is best described as, you guessed it, pandemonium; ending with my great grandmother hosing me down with water- and tears, of course tears. Good times.


*If you hadn't already guessed, I'm in the peach bathing suit...I loved that bathing suit.

These pictures were taken on the shores where my grandfather grew up. We had gone up to his childhood home- which faces the ocean, with a lovely little creek flowing by it. At the time I was far too young to appreciate Mother Nature’s wonders in my family’s native land; but as a confirmed water baby, I was in heaven! The day was free of insect snafus and the like; we beached, ate fruit off the trees and played with our cousins. The only pandemonium-ish moment was when my grandmother frantically paced the beach- screaming at me for going too far out into the ocean. Funnily enough, for people born by the ocean, very few of my family members can swim.

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