I snap photos at home like I’m some awestruck tourist seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time. Maybe it’s because as a nomadic college student, I’m only home for a few weeks or even days at a time. Maybe it’s because the photos are something I can put away until I need them — and when I go through them remember what it feels like to be home. Regardless of how crazy things get, it seems these images in my mind never change.

My photography professor was just talking this week about how some photos are important to us regardless of their quality. These are all less than stellar, but they are photos that mean so much to me. I couldn’t stop smiling as I went through nearly my entire photo library and remembered so many snapshots I’d ignored because of their seemingly mediocre status.

 All these photos say more than I ever could about what home is to me. It’s a meal at mamaw’s dining room table, surrounded by my dad’s goofy antics, my mom’s quiet insight, my sister’s rare sweet moments and my grandfather’s lighthearted teasing. The cool night air will always remind me of my family and friends gathered around a fire, bellies full of smores. Home seems to stay the same regardless of how things have changed. It will always be marked with moments like these.