A Photo Essay: The Sunset Home

Tucked under my chin, a sage-colored blanket smells of amber and mint. Flashes of purple tuck me in; I remember a sunset the evening before.  

Driving home, is like this blanket in feel.

 Louisburg, KS  (C) M. Young Creative

Louisburg, KS

(C) M. Young Creative

Against all the magenta, orange and cream colors, I hold my camera. Point and blur and focus, click. I almost didn't take these pictures because sometimes the photos we don't take stick with us longer. 

I stopped by Louisburg Cider Mill on my way back home from a photo shoot. Full, I feel full. With color, the glow of headlights against a fading sky getting stronger in saturation by the moment -like steaming hot water when you push down a floating bag of tea. The water getting darker, richer by the minute.

I burn my tongue on the first half-scared, half-hopeful sip of hot apple cider. 

 (C) M. Young Creative

(C) M. Young Creative

 (C) M. Young Creative

(C) M. Young Creative

Several photographers flood the shopping area with their black clothes and expensive-looking leather camera straps across their backs like butterfly wings. 

I think about introducing myself, to connect. But the dropping sun and smell of fresh cinnamon sugar donuts quiets me. I could wrap myself in these things.

 (C) M. Young Creative

(C) M. Young Creative

Pressed against my stomach, a couple items rest, my sore hands gripping tightly. Old country plays on a dust-caked radio in the corner; I am slow dancing in my mind. I scoop up a few treasures to fill in the stockings -only a month away. And I remember how I've been taking photos for four years out in this direction. 

I almost didn’t take these pictures because sometimes the photos we don’t take stick with us longer. 
— M.Y.
 (C) M. Young Photography

(C) M. Young Photography

 (C) M. Young Creative 

(C) M. Young Creative 

A dozen donuts are the standard. People stand in line to dunk them in cider made on location; the best in the state. We all smile because share something warm on a blustering Saturday night. Sticky-fingered people push the door open, little sugary fingerprints a kind of historical marker.

Observing those that pass in and out of the shop, I thank God I left a certain story behind. That the love I have now is greater than years before. That I'm free in it. That I'm one of God's little sugary fingerprints.

 (C) M. Young Creative

(C) M. Young Creative

 (C) M. Young Creative

(C) M. Young Creative

Thoughts, PhotographyMeagan Young