I’m proud of where I’m from and like to return home to Tampa as often as I can. Beaches? Check. Amusement? Check. Dining? Shopping? Check Check. Farmland? Check. Downtown? Check. Family? Why, of course. That’s actually why I return as often as I can.
This is not your typical vacation photo, but these are often the kind I come home with. I mean, how many pictures of the ocean do you really need? We were out on the balcony of our condo when it happened. The grass on the sandy dunes swayed in the breeze. The continual sound of waves crashing to shore had nearly lulled my husband and I to sleep. Then I saw it. I jumped up, camera in hand, and began to focus on the side of the building next to ours. “Those meters are so cool!” No reaction of surprise. My husband just smiled. He had seen this behavior before.
We had been decorating all day. The hall was ready and the reception about to begin. The acid washed concrete floors of the industrial loft-like banquet hall had gotten the better of my feet and I was ready to crash for a moment before guests arrived. Then I saw it. The little space next to the gift table that guests would pass on their way into the hall felt empty. I quickly grabbed an old chair we had brought for staging fillers. A stack of books and a candle are always go-to’s. Tuck in a few fresh flowers. Done and done. It wasn’t until the event started that I realized the book’s title was “The Best Man.” True story.
What is so intriguing about these old doors on a warehouse in our downtown? I had to stop and photograph them for some reason. The color. The distressing. The rust. It’s all so natural. They make a statement. They tell a story. It makes me want to write one. I think I will.