This year was quite miraculous for my family. My cousin, a woman I had learned to look up to, became a mother. To us, her daughter became the first sign of the next generation.
One day, as I was on my way to a meeting after work, I ran into my aunt – the mother of the mother of the newborn. After the usual protocol of how-are-yous and fine-thank-yous-and-yous the conversation shifted. It turned into a conversation we should have had decades ago.
We talked of the world the little girl was to grow in and into. We both hoped that we would be able to help her find her path just the way she wants to. That we would be there to support her – not set goals for her. That she will learn to appreciate what she is the way she is.
As I got on the bike again, I realised that while speaking of the child, I and my aunt had actually spoken of ourselves to ourselves.
While my cousin was still expecting, I had the chance to take a portrait of her. Then a few months later I took the first pictures of the little one.
After one of our get-togethers my cousin said that it was a wonder, how the child had brought us closer together. Before the little one, we rarely saw each other.
At the same time, our parents, her mother and my father, have had to reach out to each other because my grandparents are slipping away day by day. The circle is getting tighter from both ends – and this is a good thing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Photography & Journalism 