It always began with a ten hour drive north in the back of a Subaru wagon. Seatbelts were for the future and my mind was in the past. It was once an old schoolhouse but I knew it as my grandma and grandpa's house. Like clockwork, the first thing I’d do when I stepped through the doors was race to the spot where my grandma kept all her treasures. Her jewelry box was filled with keepsakes and tag sale scores she’d tell me would one day be mine. Tucked in bedside tables, she had shoeboxes stacked to the brim with old photographs. I’d never grow tired of flipping through the past like this and hearing my grandma recount the passage of time. It’s been over a decade since I inherited these treasures as my own. It will never not feel like the most sacred thing to me, to hold my family's memories throughout the years in my hands.​ I revisit my old family photos often for connection and inspiration, and always find just that.