Friendship & The Journey- Damariscotta Maine Photographer

I was the new kid.  At my old school, I was the fat kid everyone picked on so the thought starting again was terrifying.  Turned out the new school wasn't so different from the old one.  Each morning, I climbed on the cold bus, shuffled to my assigned seat and settled in.  Most days, I just stared out the window and watched my small world go by.  She was in first grade.  I was in third. Mr. Bowman reassigned her to my seat one day. Her legs were still too short to reach the grimy floor of the bus.  I was entranced as I watched her quickly knot the yarn coming from her paper bag.  In my bossy way I asked her what it was.  She told me she was finger crocheting a garland for her Christmas tree. And she smiled at me. I knew right then that I liked her.

She has known me through the ups and downs.  She has picked up my pieces more times than I possibly can count.  She laughed at my twisted sense of humor that no one else understood.  She was the optimist to my eternal pessimist.  She had goals and dreams where I had none.  She never held it against me that I couldn't wait to leave that little town.  I tried to be even half of the friend to her that she was to me.  Secretly, I wanted to be her when I grew up. We both grew and changed, we were in different schools, different friends, but still we always came back together, picking up right where we left off.  She new me through hippie days and purple hair, nose piercings and (partially) shaved head. To this day, I have boxes of letters she wrote me on any available surface- soap wrappers, junk mail, bits of paper, candy tins. Every time I got one, I would call her and we would talk for hours. There was nothing I couldn't tell her. That was rare in my life. She taught me so much about unconditional love.

As we have grown, lived on different sides of the country and even the world, she is still my home base. She was there, she remembers, often better than I do, the history of me, of us. My husband often threatens to bribe her for embarrassing stories.  When I found out I was pregnant with a girl, it didn't take me long to decide on my daughters name.   She allowed me to know her in the same way and there isn't a day that goes by I am not humbled by that fact.  

Over the past two years, we have finally done better about keeping in touch via email, facebook, phone calls and texting.  We finally made the time to meet for a picnic lunch and spent three hours in the same spot overlooking the beautiful river talking, listening, crying and laughing.  My sarcasm still makes her laugh.  Her words still cut through my bullshit facade.  She is my biggest cheerleader and I hope I can be hers. 

Gwen asked me to capture her as she is right now as we embark on a personal project together that I have had in my head for some time. We spent the morning together laughing, being silly, talking and creating. It was an honor and a pleasure to slow down and really watch Gwen through my lens, to be able to capture her as I see her. She is one of the most beautiful women, inside and out, I have ever known.  I can only hope she can see herself in the same light.    

This image is my favorite of our time together. It is just her in every way- beautiful, private, graceful and full of laughter.  

As we sat in her studio taking, I caught site of our conversation in the mirror.  It absolutely grabbed me with the little snippet of her life, of our relationship & exactly how I picture Gwen in my head when we talk on the phone.

Gwen, thank you.  Thank you for your grace, your forgiveness, for teaching me to see the good and for loving me when all I could see was the bad.  Thank you for standing by me when many would have given up and allowing me to be a part of your life for so very long.  I love you so very much and I am grateful to have the chance to show you just how amazing you really are. I am right here as you step into fog on the path in front of you. You are bound for many wonderful things along the way. Thank you for allowing me to push your comfort level and knock on  your barricades.  And thank you for thinking I am still a little funny after all of these years.  Here's to so many more years to come.