The decorated tree and holiday jingles push themselves into my mind and wrap around memories from past Christmas seasons. My mother cooking Polish food for Wigilia on Christmas Eve, my father trying to decide between the Elvis or the Bing Crosby Christmas music, my brother as a little boy in pajamas bouncing up and down as he opens the latest star wars toy, me in a pink barbie nightgown smiling big for the camera as I show off the cool present Santa just brought me. The magic has not gone from this time of year, simply been transformed into a different kind. Now I find myself ticking off in my mind all the people that I am happy to have in my life, for the quiet moments when I can sit still and simply be happy for what I have, and for every moment of the creative life I have discovered in myself. Its in those moments that life feels the most fragile, yet also the most real.Where I Stand Sunday is an ongoing photo essay examining the different places I spend my life standing. Too often we take for granted the everyday places we spend our lives walking on. The ground we tread on has its own stories to tell.
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