Now, and forevermore I’ll miss the sound of your feet on the floor.
There are so many stories to share, photos to look back on, and memories for reflection. So many lessons she taught me, and so much love she had given. All she ever wanted was to be by my side.
The day I brought her home there was a distinct feeling of, “what have I done to myself?” Not out of fear, or because I had no idea what I was doing. It was knowing in that first 24 hours that I’d set myself up for a devastating heartbreak. 8.5 years later, that day has come.
Now I’m afraid to go home. It isn’t that the house feels empty, it’s because the air is filled with grief. There are all these residual habits of sharing a living space with her that when leaving, my heart breaks in the moment I realize these rituals are no longer necessary. I will randomly wonder if the paper towels were low enough for her to get to them, and suddenly die inside knowing they’ll be exactly where I left them. The train comes by late Thursday mornings, and she won’t be there to howl as it blows its whistle. I can walk to the car and open any door, but she won’t be there to jump in. There are no more fist bumps, or sleepy snugs. She’s no longer checking on me every five minutes when I’m not in the same room as her. She isn’t rolled over for belly rubs when I open the bathroom door. No wrestling matches to wear me out. I’ll miss the most gentle way she would squeeze my arm while rough housing, after seeing her break a stick in half with the simplest of chomps.
She was so intelligent and intuitive. While I’m forced to say goodbye, I will never let go.
I will love you forever, Mags. Rest easy.
09/17/17-05/01/26
Long Read Ahead: The content on this account is about to change. Please, read on if you’d like to know why.
It is not easy to say this, and my mental health has suffered for it over the past few months. I can no longer go on hikes. Climbing a mountain is not the problem. At least, it hasn’t been yet. Coming down, however, has been a real struggle. My legs begin trembling, often making it feel as if I could collapse; and it isn’t just mountains. I have the same issue with stairs. For the past 6 months this has been getting worse. As a result I have not been going out into the wilderness, which means I have not been taking photos. None related to the content I used to generate here anyway.
There was a debate on whether or not I should erase the page entirely, but some of you have become good friends to me. And these are relationships I cherish. I apologize for having been less engaging or responsive the past few months. Not to be a bad friend, but I can’t promise it will get better in the weeks to come. Coming to this account just makes me sad. I think about where I’ve been, all I’ve seen, and how I might never get to go back to some of those places ever again.
When I left music, to build a better life for myself, I lost a sense of purpose, and I lost the safe feeling you have when you belong somewhere. Leaving it behind was hard. It made me question my worth, because I didn’t realize how much of my identity was wrapped up inside of it. When I started taking photos it gave me a sense of purpose. It felt like I could belong again. It felt warm. It felt safe.
You made me feel safe. You made me feel like I belonged somewhere. And I know I’m saying this to the right people, because the only people who I think would read this far are the people who encouraged me, supported me, and reached out to me. Maybe a few lurkers too, but that ok.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for the validation. Thanks for helping me through some of the roughest parts of my life. And thank you for being here. 🖤
When I was a kid I was full of dreams.
I still am, but they change with the seasons.
Welcome home, Autumn.
#fallvibes #autumnvibes #fallcolors #autumncolors #dronephotography #djimavicpro #wnc #nc #playonjacksoncountync #discoverjacksonnc #waterfallsofinstagram #waterfall #waterfalls #rainyday #moodygrams #welcomefall #dryfalls #highlandsnc
The night of the accident I was working late. My managers boyfriend had come in, placed his helmet on bar, and began a conversation. The helmet reminded me of Luke. In fact, we mostly talked about Luke that night because of it.
That night I was kind of stoked, because I had all these memories coming up from the stories I told. There was a distinct urge to call him after work. 9pm. That was my scheduled time out. That’s when I was going to call. Unfortunately that call never took place.
My relief had called out and I was obligated to stay. It was between 1&2am when it was finally suitable to leave. At that point the exhaustion from work and a bombardment of interactions with drunken fraternities had settled in. “I could still call,” I thought, and even though there was a compelling intuitive knack tugging at my sleeve, I chose not to. “I’ll call him before work. We’ll have more time to catch up then anyway.”
The morning after, freshly showered and brushing my teeth, my phone rings. It’s an unfamiliar number, not stored in my contacts, and so I let it go. A few moments later a text comes in, “Jeff it’s Luke.” Thinking he had just switched phones or got a new number I text back, “DUDE! I was just talking about you last night, and was about to call you! Give me 5 minutes.”
The message was abruptly followed with my phone ringing. It’s the same number, it’s Luke, it must be important. I answer, but it wasn’t Luke. It was one of our mutual friends, Tim. He and Luke were founders of the band I’d spent playing in the summer before. “It’s Tim, I’m calling you from Jessica’s phone.”
This was clearly not about the upcoming show our bands had planned together at Tremont. “Luke was in an accident last night, you need to come down,” he said. He didn’t have much information to give me, just that Luke was in bad shape, in surgery and that I needed to be there.
I went, but wasn’t allowed to see him while there. He passed that evening. It haunted me for years that I didn’t call. Tortured at the thought he might still here if I had. It took a long time to understand that it wouldn’t have given me any more time with him, but only better closure. 4/7 hits hard every year 💔
2025 in a nutshell. Wouldn’t exactly call it a year of growth, but it was certainly a year of experience. Good & bad. Thanks to everyone that shared a moment with me. Yall rad as hell. 🖤💚🖤
That first pic is for the lols … iykyk
My dad flew in and we had dinner last night. Afterward we went out for a drink. Helene came up, as he was living in avl at the time. Anyway, I was playing guitar today and as I was fiddling around I started thinking about it more and more. Naturally, I had to write a moody little post rock tune to get out my feelings on it. I don’t share much of my guitar playing these days, but I figured I’d put this one out there.
My life in various stages. Many of those pictured next to me are no longer in contact with me. Some aren’t even alive anymore. Yet, they’re all still, very much, a part of who I am today. If not for them, and the bonds we had so many years ago, who would I be? We grew together, we influenced each other, we loved each other … we would have fought for one another, died for one another, and for a brief period it felt like we lived for each other.
It’s no secret that I’m a sucker for nostalgia. At the time I didn’t realize how important or vital these moments were. As I get older I soak it all up. The feelings I have when I revisit these photos, they are present in every day life now. To the point that I sometimes think it’s all coming to a head, and it makes me anxious.
Nostalgia is dangerous. It’s a thief of hope and promise. It’s the birther of doubt. I hate swimming in its ocean, but I submerge myself anyway … just so I can have a glimpse at what was, with people I miss, and the aspirations we set out to conquer.
These are all good memories. I just wanted things to be different than they turned out to be.
