since 2014
I’ve photographed Chloe for more reasons than I’ll ever know.
We met for the first time in 2008, when Chloe was a tiny, non-verbal thing, about 6 months old. In the arms of their father, Donald. He sat with us on the couch, laughing to himself. I remember feeling petulant at the presumption I didn’t understand how important Chloe was. I knew immediately. How perfect and alien and holy they were, swaddled in my eight-year-old arms.
When we were children, Chloe and I saw each other a few times a year, usually on Christmas and Fourth of July. Each time we gathered, Chloe, their sister, Faith, and I, ran around like puppies until we were forced to separate.
As we all grew older, Faith, a few years above me, became busy with school, and I became a welcome, qualified babysitter. In the summer of 2014, I asked their mother if I could help watch Chloe while she worked from home.
This was the real birthplace of our friendship. Hours spent in the backyard on a swing, hands sticky from crafts and popsicles. Each afternoon we felt more like siblings. Conversation and play came easily, Chloe was a real person so much earlier than I remember being.
Ten years later, watching Chloe grow up is the most rewarding thing I’ve ever been a part of.
December 30, 2014
The first time I took photos of Chloe
