Feeling of accomplishment

I finally finished a project last weekend that has taken me literally two years to accomplish.

I now have a “Heritage Wall” in my home filled with a panoramic photo of Gebo surrounded by photos of my Burnell and Stewart relatives.

Its good, sometimes, to remember where you came from.

While going through the old family album to pick out the photos I wanted to use I found a photo of my grandfather with his first car near the tunnels in the canyon. Although in his 20s, the photo brought back memories of the white, long sleeved shirts he wore every day and the cigarette that perpetually hung from his lips.

There is a photo of my grandmother, looking so young. Her hair is perfect. Her dress the latest in style. Perhaps it is from her that I gained my love for clothes and shoes. As a little girl I remember those peep-toe black suede pumps and some day, before I’m too old to wear them, I’m going to find a pair just like them.

Great grandfather Stewart rests top-center of the collection, upon his horse, his sheriff’s badge on his chest. He was the sheriff in Kirby and I remember my grandfather teasing my grandmother that he could kick his way out of jail if need be. Oh, she would get so flustered with him.

A photo of my aunt holding my mother is there, too. The 1930s drop-waist dress and the headband were obviously the rage for teenagers of the time. It was my mother’s 6th birthday.

Looking at all of these people, who’s blood runs through my own veins, reminds me of the strength I come from. It reminds me where I started in this world and what I have accomplished.

I see a hint of that smile. I look at eyes that are shaped like mine.

Its good, sometimes, to remember where you came from.