One morning some time ago, in fact it was about ten years ago, I woke up and thought about how the seansons change. At that particular moment, I was thinking about how the leaves on the trees changed colors, how the smell in the air was somewhat different. I was no longer waking up to the smell of biscuits baking or that tinge of cinnamon in the air. I awoke to the smell of coffee brewing and a crispness of hickory lingering because people burned fireplaces or cooked breakfast using wood stoves.
When I lived in my parent's home, I always awoke to the smell of clothes drying, to the sounds of machines humming and the bumping of foot pedals on presses; I awoke often to the sound of a tune on the radio, to the sound of people talking (as if they were yelling at each other—they just couldn't hear each other because of the noise), and more importantly, I would awake to the sound of my dad whistling, humming, or singing a tune while diligently working. I'd awake to the sounds and scents of the family business. The fumes of the fluid that's used to dry clean clothes is not a horrific smell, but it's something that I find hard to describe. Although for me, it is a special scent, which brings an influx of memories.
Now that I've been away from home for several years, I can still wake up to the smells of freshness in the air—sausages, coffee, hickory, and that crispness, which arrives with fall weather. And I can still wake up and look out the window and see the leaves on the trees change colors. But what I no longer awake to hear are the humming of dryers turning, steam seeping and searing from pipes, the whistling and singing of my dad as he bumped and clicked the foot pedals of the presses; there was always a rhythm and a beat of familiarity. So whenever I would wake up, while at home, I knew that If I were to listen, really listen, I could hear that I was home.
Although I can no longer smell the freshness of clean clothes, of steam, of a crisp fall day in Louisiana, or hear my father's rhythms, beats, whistling, and singing, I am sadden. But when I take a moment to reminisce, I feel whole and at peace with my immediate surroundings and the world because I know that all is going to be well.
So today, despite whatever it is that I will encounter, today will be a good day.
It is called Hope. My pictures
make me think of who I am.
My second picture is called Nature . 
Nature is one of my favorite pictures I have
made.
When I get older I want to make my pictures into glass models. I like talking about myself it is fun.
