The Process of Remembering: a photoblog by andrew huth

“My Home” 

Recent jobs took me to Delaware Beach.  Heather’s and my schedule (as of late) have kept both of us pretty busy and apart from each other so she decided to come with me to Delaware and make a weekend of it.  Rarely do I bring my tripod with me, but this time I did.  Heather sure was glad since we rarely have photos of the two of us—hmmm I wonder why?

Being a married man of seven years, I suppose you could say that I have been spoiled for awhile; I rarely have to come to an empty home. The place where I rest my feet is humble for sure, but my home is smaller yet—it just so happens to be about 5’6″ in size.  It is the kind of place that inspires me to walk tee-shirt and shorts out into the cool night air simply to relish in the contrasting warmth that awaits me when I return.  It is the kind of place where blinds and windows refuse to stay closed.  It is the kind of place where gravity flips upside down and my head refuses to hang low.  It is the kind of place where silence speaks volumes and NOISE recedes.  It is the kind of place where my defeats and frustrations are met with a warm meal and a hug.  It is the kind of place where my mile high hopes and crazy dreams seem only around the bend.  Best of all, it is the kind of place that counsels and releases my shortcomings and acts of selfishness while celebrating and holding firmly onto my acts of love.  This 5’6″ place I call home knows no fences and has no foundations cementing it to the ground.  Rather, it goes with me everywhere I go—even to a beach.  My home is no humble place; I live richly indeed.