It's summer, I'm often at my grandmother's and love hanging out with my cousin Erik. He's cool. I'm maybe 6 years old and he's 5? Almost every day we lie to grandma, saying we're going to pick flowers in a meadow near the house, but in reality we run to the river a little further away - where we're not allowed to go ourselves._cc781905-5cde-3194-bb3b -136bad5cf58d_

 

My little sister who is 3 years old knows about our move but we trick her into staying at home with a promise to fetch the water from the river in a plastic bag. Sometimes we manage to keep the promise, sometimes the plastic bag is broken and the water spills out on the way home.

 

I remember a special day on the run with Erik, he and I - the cool kids go to the river and swim. Erika is standing by the gate and gullibly waves goodbye. She reminds us of the water in the bag.

We promise honor and conscience. 

 

There we rest on the stony bank of the river, I close my eyes and feel the stones rub against my back and the sun rays burn my face, water drying against the sun-warmed skin. The sunlight is blinding even though I close my eyes, and I hear the river. Suddenly dad appears with Erika sitting on his shoulders. He scolds us, but only a little and it feels mostly dutiful to live up to the expected father role. Deep down, he probably thinks we are surprisingly independent and have grown past his perception of our age. 

 

That day and those feelings are my happy place. A carefree sunny day by rushing water, and with a feeling of being part of a small but still great adventure. 

 

I still have many photographs from my childhood, something I am endlessly grateful to my parents for. The pictures have helped me to etch childhood memories. I remember the situations the pictures were taken, and everything that happened around it. Photographs help cement a fleeting memory into something physical. You land in the tactile & are touched in a different way than with just memory. 

 

Sometimes I wonder if our little adventure by the river that day really happened… I wish I had a photograph to look at. So I can feel absolutely sure that it is true. 

 

Not long ago I stumbled upon a picture where my father kisses me on the temple. I was 3 months old when the picture was taken. There is a basically identical picture of Esther when she is 5 months old and I kiss her forehead. That we are so alike, he and I. 

 

Sometimes I am amazed at how quickly my first 39 years have passed, and at the same time tremble at how quickly the next 39 will fly by, just like for my dad. 

 

This is probably my "why I photograph" in a nutshell. I feel joy but also some kind of sadness and longing for moments that just disappear. Photography reminds me to be gratefuland appreciate

life right now... That's why I photograph my family and other people's families as much as I can. 

 

My name is Edita. I am 39 years old. Daughter, sister, friend, wife and mother. 

And I am  a family and wedding photographer. 

I am here to "freeze" moments from your life and frame them for you. 

Perhaps your children will look at the photographs in, say, 39 years and discover similarities between you and themselves. 

And filled with joy.