Instead of focusing on people or places, I have found that I'm drawn to the simple objects and this project "The World I Know" is the perfect opportunity for me to explore the pieces of the world that I can identity with. Each piece has been chosen based on the impact it has on my life. It's a huge part of the person I am and the "world" that I know.
The first photo that I want to share is fairly simple- my grandmother's metal measuring cup. I know you're thinking how strange but hopefully you'll understand the significance soon.
My grandmother was such a huge part of my life growing up. Every moment that I could I spent with her and my grandfather. There certainly are no shortage of memories and almost all of them make me smile. My grandfather passed away in 1998 and his sweet grin is forever etched into my heart. He and I listened to countless UT football and basketball games on his bedside radio. He preferred to listen than watch because what you "hear is better than what you see." He was health conscious and kept his things in a neat order thanks to the time he spent with the US Army. He was my mentor, cheer leader, and friend. I miss him greatly.
I am so blessed to still have my "mamaw" and her wonderful cooking every Sunday after church. It's a small tradition in my life but is the one that I love the most. As a child, I can remember sitting on the porch swing in the summer eating cornbread and milk or an ice cream cone. Sometimes she'd sing or tell stories, but most of the time she listened to me rattle on about nonsense or my flight-of-fancy thoughts. Not one time did my grandmother every dismiss me and my curiosities as childish or insignificant. In fact, she made me feel like the most important person in the world. Things like that are important to a kid. I was always content there, and I still am. Her house just feels like home.
For every special person in our lives there is always a trigger. Something that will allow the memories to cascade from our minds and fall upon our hearts one more time. Sometimes a picture can transport us to the memories of those we love and we're reminded of the way their eyes twinkle when they laugh, or the way they smell when they're getting dressed up for church, or the familiar sound of the way they walk down the hall in the morning. For me, my mamaw's metal cup reminds me of her more than anything else in her house. I'll leave the imagery and the symbolism to you the reader, but I could live to be a 100 and I'm not sure that I will ever take another photograph that has any more meaning than this one.
It's just an old measuring cup. I'm not sure anyone in the family even remembers where it came from since it's just always been there. It's dented and stained to the point some of the words aren't legible and the bottom doesn't sit flush on a surface. I'm quite sure that it was never actually used to measure anything, but more than anything else in the kitchen it's been useful. All of us grand kids have drank out of it and would fight over who got to use it. My grandma still uses it to drink her milk and of course milk and cornbread. Despite being weathered it's still very much an important fixture in the kitchen.
Every Sunday I check the counter to make sure its in the right spot, searching for the familiarity of home. Each week the age is a little more apparent as the wear and tear of the years begins to show on the metal and it sets a little more crooked and looks a little more tarnished. Its age becomes clearer with each passing week and I can't help but wonder how much longer it will be a fixture on the counter. But yet it's still the first thing I search for because despite being weathered it's important to me. I can look at my grandmother and see that she too seems to be aging a little bit more each week, reminding me that age is creeping up on her as well. I see this photo and I vividly imagine her frail, crooked fingers around it, bringing it up to her lips and savoring the last swallow of milk, then rinsing it out at the sink, and placing it back in it's spot on the counter. No matter how many days she and I may share I will always think of her and think of home and remember the love and care she shows continuously. Life is constrained by time and that makes each memory invaluable.
I suppose that at the close of life, memories are what matters most and how we process those memories is the most important part.
