Atwood, KS

It was supposed to be a quiet Thanksgiving. I planned on sleeping in, popping a few cinnamon rolls into the oven, and watching the parade on the couch with my dogs. Unfortunately, a few days before, life took an unexpected turn and I found myself on a fifteen-hour drive heading to my grandparents' town - Atwood, KS. And for the first time in my adult life, I found myself surrounded by my entire family, sitting cross legged at the coffee table, eating my weight in smoked turkey and mashed potatoes. 

I truly don’t think it was a coincidence. Papa knew what he was doing. He purposefully brought us all together on this specific day, he brought us home, to remind us just how wonderfully blessed we are. Although we shed more tears than I ever thought possible, we laughed as we shared stories of our childhood days spent in this little town and the big around-the-world adventures we were fortunate to accompany our grandparents on.

While there, I stepped away for an hour to capture this tiny little square mile of space. I needed to document his final resting place on film to honor the man who instilled my love of photography. Who I would spend hours on the phone with, discussing how film would always be superior to digital. I needed to freeze Atwood just as it was, preserve it in all of it's small town glory.   

How lucky am I to have had thirty-two years of knowing such a wonderful, kind, and caring man. But what I would give to have just one more conversation in Gammy’s kitchen over a bowl of ice cream.