A day in the life
This week we got some feedback on our potential loan with FSA. As expected, more information is needed, and I found myself digging through files and then drawers (my lifelong habit of storing important documents in my underwear drawer remains inexplicable), where the main events of my life can be stitched together through the tattered cards, photos, and letters stashed there. It’s like a paper trail of existence, nothing too specific, but enough clues to piece together a trajectory. FSA needed a copy of my social security card which I’ve wisely stored in an envelope under a sports bra alongside the expired passport that hasn’t been stamped by another country’s customs office in many years. It’s evident where the travel just…stopped. As I pulled the needed item from its envelope, I noticed another old letter peeking out from a sock. I smoothed it out to reveal the contents; a graduate school acceptance letter. Dated seven years ago. I remember receiving the letter, all the excited phone calls I made, emails I sent, now shoved into a drawer only found when looking to complete a Farm Services Agency loan application. Life = funny. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
Funnier still was the note I got from a childhood friend, turned crazy talented photographer. Andrea Hunter’s photography style lends itself more to storytelling than portraiture; and it was exciting to hear she was interested in capturing a few “day in the life” shots at the farm. This meant, of course, that I woke up and took a shower, then proceeded to apply makeup and wear clean clothes before she came out for the afternoon. She didn’t say it had to be a completely accurate portrayal of a day in my life, right? So for one afternoon, in this fantasy world she created for me, Andrea got a few dreamlike shots of our little farm, complete with mostly well-behaved animals, a husband happy to frolic with the dogs on a hill, a farm girl whose face had no mysterious, sludge smudged across it, and hair free of hay. It’s not that she photographed fiction, but maybe she captured a glimpse of the person whose closet used to be filled with suits, who hangs onto an acceptance letter just to rekindle a momentary flicker of pride, even if it doesn’t matter one bit anymore. Either way, I’m grateful for the shots and excited about all the beautiful work Andrea’s putting out into the world. (All photo credit for these images goes to Andrea Hunter.)