29/365: Braided
I have a small obsession with braids. And by small, I mean I learn a new braid like a giddy eight year-old girl. Braids aren't for babies, ladies and gentlemen. I hope I'm never too old for them.
My Apartment Parking Lot. (seriously, cropping does wonders for photos. It isn't that scenic where I live.)
When I first took this photo I thought I would have to edit it. It's slightly overexposed and it almost hurts your eyes. But this Midwestern girl is happy for the pain from snow. I love snow. Do I like to drive in snow? Of course not. And yes, I'd rather snow not touch me or my new boots (not the snow ones, I'm mentally prepared for them to be touched by snow). But something about seeing it fall makes me feel like a little girl all over again. I remember begging to play in the snow. I have extremely vivid memories of my poor father getting Brighid and me all dressed up and then, inevitably, one of us would have to go the bathroom (no matter how much he asked prior to snow-suit assembly).
Snow reminds me of home. Snow reminds me of family memories. Snow almost always makes me feel loved because it reminds me of those I love so much. Silly? Probably. But I live for silly. I go out of my way for silly. I jump up and down, do cart wheels, and sing for silly. Just kidding. I can't do a cart wheel.
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