It's summer, I often go to 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 telling here we're going to pick flowers in a meadow near the house, but in reality we run away to the river a little further away, i.e. where we're not allowed to go by ourselves.  My little sister who is 3 knows about our plan but we trick her into staying home with a promise to bring water from the river for her. For that we would use a plastic bag. Sometimes we manage to keep the promise, sometimes the plastic bag has a little tear and the water runs 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 for a swim as per yewge, Erika standing at the gate and waving gullibly goodbye. She reminds us about the water in the bag.

We promise with all due honor.

 

So there we were, resting on the rocky bank of the river. I am lying with my eyes closed, feeling the stones against my back and the sun rays warming my face and drying water on my skin.

The sunlight is blinding despite the shut eyes, and I can hear the river. Suddenly, out of the blue comes Dad with Erika sitting on his shoulders!.. He scolds us, but only a little and it feels like he does it just to live up to the expected role of a father.  Deep down, he must have thought that we were 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 the rushing water,

and the feeling of having been part of a small but fantastic adventure...

 

I have many photographs from my childhood, something I am infinitely grateful to my parents for.

The pictures have helped me etch childhood memories. I remember the situations the pictures were taken in, and everything that happened around them. Photographs help cement a fleeting memory into something physical. These photographs are a tactile experience that touches me in a special way than just by memory. 

 

Sometimes I wonder if our little adventure by the river really happened…

I wish I had a photograph of it to look at and feel with my fingers.

 

Not long ago I was looking through my childhood photos and stumbled upon a picture of my father kissing me on the temple. I was 3,5 months old when the picture was taken. I suddenly had this deja vu feeling as there is an almost identical picture of Esther

when she is 5 months old and me kissing her on the forehead... ​

It is so weird how alike Dad and I are...

At times I almost lose my breath at the thought of how quickly my first 40+ years have passed, and in the same breath, I dread how fast the next ones will fly by. Just like they have 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 disappear. Photography reminds me to be grateful and appreciate life right now…

That’s the reason I photograph my own and other people’s families as much as I can.

 

My name is Edita. I am 43 years old.

Daughter, sister, friend, wife and mother.

I am also a family and wedding photographer.

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

So that maybe your children will look at the photographs when they are, say, 40+,

and discover those precious similarities between you and themselves. And that would fill them  with joy.