You are Loved

It was the last time we were together at the house. I felt a sense of urgency to photograph mum. We woke up early and I asked her to stand by the old lemon tree. In her arms she cradled the wooden sculpture which once belonged to my grandfather. The wooden face of an old man blowing with puffed up cheeks and wild hair, so deeply interwoven to the memory of him. A longing to hold on to this moment for as long as possible, my mother, my grandfather and I.