This is my grandmother and my mother on the beach in North Carolina. There’s something so simple, yet so powerful, about how my grandmother is holding my mother up in the air. My mother is an only-child, so she often felt like she was the center of my grandparents’ lives.

This Thanksgiving, I unearthed a treasure trove of old family photos. I found them hiding in drawers, shoeboxes and albums.

The experience of discovering them reminded me of one of my favorite poems, “Ancient Kings,” by Brian Andreas.

“My grandmother kept a box of old photos in her attic & we used to go up there on rainy days & sit on the floor in the dusty light & go through them & she would tell about witches & broken hearts & how we came from royal blood & it was all there in the pictures, she said.”

~shared by @rachellacour
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