Down to the river to pray

This is not the first chapter that I appeared in Meghan’s story, nor her’s in mine. Last year I had put together a photographic series called “Postpartum Awareness” where I encouraged women to  share stories of their postpartum experiences. I wanted to reach out to other mothers by saying ” Hey you, beautiful woman over there, you are not different and you are NOT alone!” Meghan’s story was one of  immense strength, boundless love and immeasurable bravery.  So to capture this little snippet in time for her  was something I felt so honored to do.

 I  approached the bank of the river, thinking  how special it was that Meghan wanted to be by the water for her session.The river is my sanctuary, as my eyes close and I lift my face towards the sky, it ripples past my toes like icy ribbons of silk. The air is cool with the smell of stone and earth. The river is so symbolic for the passage of time  and how we navigate through this momentous journey, and how we find pauses in our life to look back and reflect on the past.  As the mid afternoon sun started to sink in the sky, soft and hazy  it blanketed the tops of the maples with it’s rich golden rays, the kids threw rocks into the river. Watching intently as tiny ripples become big ripples that then turned back into the rushing ribbons of the current. After a short while we walked up the hill they unfolded a small blanket, unpacked their market basket and broke bread together, laughing, eating and enjoying the company of each others arms.

Blowing bubbles into the wind the kids frolicked and danced,  evoking memories of my own childhood, wind in my hair and sun drenched skin and without a care in the world. As we finished our time together we returned to the river, as if it was calling for us, to say goodbye, to say thank you, to remind us to bask in the small moments and memories we make with our families each day. As I drove off I felt an immense feeling of peace, of serenity, of newness. My spirit had been renewed.