the story that came to be // letters from the past.

each of us has a story. no two are alike. similar, but not the same. some choose to embrace it, some discover it later in life, and some try to live a story that was never theirs to begin with. new roots are planted, old ones are discovered. in the end, roots become deep and no matter where you are, where you go, those roots remain. but sometimes, they intertwine and I would be foolish to call it "fate" that makes it so. sometimes love stories are formed, dry valleys appear, mountaintops are conquered, friendships are restored, new ones are discovered - it's all part of a unique story. and it's yours.

1945. "my dearest Pamela," each letter would begin. lists and drawings, inside jokes, and memories, money matters, scrapbook ideas, all intertwined within words of endearment and love. seventy years ago, they were in love. this was there story.

my grandfather was was an artist. my grandmother, an actress. they lived separate stories that were one day intertwined to create one they both shared. my grandfather became a soldier in World War II, trained at a little army camp outside of my little town I now call home. both my grandparents originated from Los Angeles, the birth place of my mother, yet my grandmother never forgot this little town {having lived here for a few months as my grandfather was being trained, and vacationing here with my mother when she was a little girl}.

who would have known, that as they lived their story, they began a new one. my mother would have never lived here if it weren't for her father being trained in a little camp outside our hometown. my father would have never met my mother, and I would not be typing this story at the moment.

two simple lives intertwined. a chain reaction. and the story that came to be.

that was their story. what's yours?
xoxo,
the keeper of the garden.