Marking the Days

Those stairs.  Those beautiful stairs.  They were one of the main reasons we chose our house.  I had seen them once or twice before as a child and was enthralled.  Shortly after the for sale sign went up in front of the two-story colonial home in my parents’ neighborhood, my husband and I had an appointment to view it.  We loved it so in the summer of 1993 we moved into the red brick colonial with the sweeping front staircase.

My daughter was a precocious two-year old when we moved into our new home.  I knew from the moment we signed the contract I would one day want to see her in her wedding gown on that staircase.  If I could have fit into my own wedding dress, I would have had my bridal portrait redone.  Alas, with two children, that was not to be.

The vision, the dream of seeing my daughter in her wedding gown on those stairs became reality about a month before her wedding.  I convinced her to bring the dress home and a dear friend who is a professional photographer came over one Sunday afternoon for a photo session.

I confess, I cried.  

While sorting some old photos a few weeks earlier, I came across one of my then two-year old girl, in a cream colored dress, posing on the stairs.  I had her and her brother dressed up and we were on our way to one of the department store photo studios to have Christmas pictures made.  I did not realize it until a few days ago, that was the first picture that I took of her standing on the stairs.  Many more “stair photos” were to follow.

Our stairway was the setting for dozens of photos of both of my children through the years.  I have photos of them in their Easter finery and their Christmas jammies.  Every costume my mom made was modeled and captured for posterity on those stairs.  As they grew older, there were Cotillion, school event or special date photos.  One day, I will count how many pictures I have of my children on the stairs.  I think there may be one hundred.

Back to the photo session.  I showed my photographer friend the picture of my two-year old in the cream dress and asked if he could re-create it.  The result is amazing and  precious to me.  On the left, the first picture I have of my daughter posed on our staircase and on the right, the last photo of her as a single girl in her childhood home.  The distance between the two is a very short 22 years.

Then and now - 22 years in between.
Then and now – 22 years in between.

So teach us to count our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.  Psalms 90:12

How about you? Do you have a special place in your home where you mark the days?

5 thoughts on “Marking the Days

    1. Thanks Kelly! (I didn’t mean to make you cry). It was a blessing to have you and Andy involved. That really made it special! I wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of my friend!


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