This work is personal to me.
Not because it is beautiful. Not because it is creative.
But because I know what it feels like to want to hold onto something you cannot keep.
Life has stretched me in ways I never planned for. I have lived through loss. I have rebuilt myself more than once. I have learned how quickly things can shift and how strong you have to become when they do.
That changes the way you witness people.
Wife to a Marine Corps veteran. Mom to two boys who have taught me more about patience and presence than anything else ever could. I have learned when to hold steady and when to loosen my grip. When to lead. When to simply stand beside someone.
When I photograph you, I am not chasing a perfect frame. I am paying attention to what sits underneath it. The tight hand squeeze. The breath before the walk down the aisle. The split second where someone gathers themselves before moving forward.
These are not just events to me.
They are turning points.
They are chapters.
They are the kind of days you will one day ache to remember clearly.
I do not show up casually.
And I do not forget what it means to be trusted with something that matters.
People matter. Every one of them. Every family. Every story.
Dignity is not optional. Cruelty is not excused. Respect is not conditional on who you are, who you love, or where you come from.
That is not something I compromise on.