philip lepage's photostream

The little girl is actually my grandmother. My mother has become fascinated by family, the world she ran away from, since they moved back to Nova Scotia. She had an even more complex relationship with her mother than I ever had with my family. I sometimes wonder how much I actually know about my parents and what I just assume... I wonder what she sees in the old images she now has on her walls. I wonder why she chooses them.
I never really knew my grandmother. She was extremely distant around me to the point that she hadn't spoken to me for many years before she died. I don't think I will ever know why, I don't think she ever spoke to anyone about it. I remember sitting in her kitchen, I remember the smoked fish she would cook for me when I was a child. Strangely enough I have more memories of the other woman in the picture. She was my great grandmother and was already suffering from what might have been Alzheimers... She could only remember my mother as a little girl. I don't know if she actually understood who I was but I spent one of the best afternoons of my life with her. These are some of the women in my family. Families are complex.

Some of the things my mother keeps have no history for us... I am not sure where this phone came from. I have no idea how long she has had it. It may have already been in the house when they retired and moved out East. I remember sitting in the kitchen and they were discussing buying a new house... my mother was adamant that this phone would come with them. I am curious why she feels so attached to it... what meaning does it hold for her?

I am not sure how long my parents have had this chair. I remember Mom telling me not to rock it if I wasn't sitting in it... Her superstitions, her childhood that has also become a part of me. It is strange the things we remember as years go by, the things that we forget. It sits in a corner of their bedroom now, I don't know if anyone will ever sit in it again.

I haven't seen my sister in more years then I care to admit. My fault maybe, just the distance maybe... we have lived half a world apart for much of my adult life. When I returned to Canada I hoped to see more of her, more of her family. Things don't always work out the way we wished... Someday I hope we can take a vacation together. Just take a week and go... I miss her.

My mother is a collector. She keeps things that others forget about. Sometimes I think she is holding on to these things for my sister and I. That these memories are for us... and she is guarding them. I have always envied her independence and strength.