I love old photos. My mum has a big box that has hundreds of photos from when my grandmother was a child through to the present. Most of the more recent ones though are neatly kept in their envelopes but the older ones are a big jumble. But I know what they all are.
When mum moved recently she and I spent all day packing up her house one Saturday then spent the night going through the photo box. It was sad and sweet at the same time because we hadn’t long lost dad. But I had the same sense of wonder and excitement looking at the photos that I always have.
It’s like that box is a treasure chest offering up treasure after treasure of black and white gems that tell the story of my parents lives.
This photo was taken by my dad on Lord Howe Island on their honeymoon 50 years ago. I have no idea of the context, or of what mum was running from, or to. But the evocativeness of it sets my imagination alight.
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