We were getting ice cream with my parents and sister in a shopping area by our house when we walked past this wall. A wall I must have walked passed a hundred times and never gave it a second thought, and suddenly it hit me. Thomas’ hand was on that wall. Something we participated in over 8 years ago when he was a sleeping infant in the pottery shop.

Forever frozen in time.
So tiny. So long ago.

32/52/Portrait - Thomas Paul, 8 years later.Thomas, of course, doesn’t remember, but he read his name immediately and insisted on posing alongside of it.

There are many things that I look forward to in the new house. I always say how nice it will be to have our own mailbox, on our own property, and not have to walk to get mail any longer.
32/52/Life - The real reason we walk to the mailbox everyday.Truth is? I will miss it.

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