My family and I were raking in the yard the other day when a gust of wind blew up and tried to carry away the leaves I was holding in gloved hands. Though I didn't feel the gust until it hit, right before it, there was a slight rustling in the high treetops, which suggested that one was about to carry the leaves away. I clutched at the leaves, and succeeded in saving most of them, except for a mere few that were carried away out of sight. 

I stopped a moment, and mused.   Memory is like the leaves that blow, 

was my thought. Simplistic. But meaningful enough to worm its way into a blog post. 

Though I tried to hold on to the memories of four or five years ago, I lose them. I remember certain moments , such as the time my best friend and sweet sister moved  and I sobbed the whole way home after we left them, the time I could scarcely believe that I myself had a dog named Lilly, my first successful audition, and the time I knew I would never again see my uncle in this life. 

But at the same time.. there are also those moments. Like a wonderful TBC discussion. The first rose of summer. Grace-Hope's jokes and not letting me get out of her bed after reading with her, "just lay with me a little bit, Sierra!" Ah. The big things are dear. But the little moments like those slip away without read-throughs in my journals. I've been keeping journals for seven years now, in addition to attempts when I was five and six and seven and eight. They are like wondrous letters, reminding me of leaves that would blow away, were they not scribbled down in a moment's haste for later reveling. 

The breeze may blow, the wind may come, but I still have my personal stories to hold on to and remember with. 

Article and Photography Copyright of Sierra Brewer and Fresh Joys Photography, 2012. If you would like to use any part of this post, please contact me for express permission at hishandmaiden.theblog@gmail.com. Thank you.