Time isn't holding us. Time isn't after us.
Let me tell you about the summer or 2011. My family and I sold our house, found ourselves staying with relatives for a while, then found a new home. We packed, unpacked, packed again, and unpacked again. We welcomed a beautiful daughter to the family and introduced her to her brother. Hell, we even got a new car.
At the end of the summer, we had a harrowing flirtation with unemployment and uncertainty, only to see it disappear with a whimper.
We entered the summer of 2011 as a three-piece, and emerged at the end as a quartet, completely transformed and improved in every way. And throughout the entire perplexing experience, I kept feeling like the speaker of the Talking Heads song, "Once in a Lifetime," a man who is suffering an existential dilemma in the face of his overwhelming good fortune.
Remember Job, the man from the Old Testament who couldn't understand why his life took such an inexplicable turn for the worse? Well, I feel like his exact opposite. Like Job, I question how a humble man's life can take such an incredible path. But where Job's path was calamitous, mine is auspicious. Job's question was religious; mine is existential. Job complained; I ain't complaining.
Our crises, however, are the same--why me?
You may ask yourself, "How do I work this?"
You may ask yourself, "Where is that large automobile?"
You may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house."
You may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife."
Here are some photos I took during the unprecedented summer of 2011, beginning with the beautiful house.