When I was eight years old, our family of (then) five, packed into our suburban loaded with suitcases and boxes and headed for California. I had a backpack full of coloring books, a gameboy, books that spilled out of several zippered pouches, various sketchbooks and art supplies, and a Polly Pocket set or two. We passed through twelve to fifteen states on our way to the golden state and stopped at a plethora of landmarks and national monuments.
The Grand Canyon was perhaps my favorite. It was a dusty day and the blue sky overhead was so big it felt like it could swallow you up. And the Grand Canyon was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. People say that all the time, but once you behold the magnitude of it, you're left speechless. It's just enormous. There were many layers, colors, and sheer enormity of it was breathtaking.
I'm so grateful for all the photos from our trip. I inherited my love of photography from my mom, and many of her images make up a majority of my inspiration as an artist. I love how she documented the big and the small things throughout our trip (and throughout my whole growing up, really). The other day, we pulled out a box of photos from when I was little, and spent the evening laughing and reminiscing. The Grand Canyon was just one of the many trips and places we talked about, but it may be some of my favorite memories.
Oh, and those pants? Those were my favorites.
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