Family Photos

Yesterday I went to visit my grandparents with my father. When we arrived, I was the first to go through the garden and step through the back door. My grandparents were watching the Queen giving her annual speech and we made ourselves comfortable at the dining table, with tea and cake. After a while my grandmother pushed an antique leather case my way and told me to open it.

A big smile appeared on my face.

We looked at every little print. 

My granddad looked at them through a magnifying glass.

This is my grandfather when he was about my age. He was supposed to become a butcher, like his father. Instead, he married my grandmother and made his own dreams come true.

Conserving memories

This is my grandfather. He's eighty one years old. Together with my grandmother he lives in a small town, in a house they've lived in for thirty two years. Through the course of time nothing in that house has changed much. All the memories I have of spending time there have been conserved in time quite well. There's still the tiny room upstairs in which my grandfather tried to teach me how to paint. In the living room, the sofa still prickles my bare legs. The same heavy carpet lies on the dinner table. Every hour, their longcase clock plays a tune that's been etched in my mind.

I used to sleep over regularly when I was a child. But when I became older I stopped visiting them as much. Their house lost it's appeal to me. At this point though, I can see them getting older. And I want to know about their history. I want to hear the stories of their youth and see the photo albums they've kept all these years.
And through documenting them, I can keep what is there now.

                                                                              ©  Chrissie Smolders

                                                                                                       ©  Chrissie Smolders

                                                                                                        ©  Chrissie Smolders