As I welcomed the New Year quietly, I realized I was not just turning a calendar page, but reflecting on a journey that began years ago. Since 2019, loss, growth, and transformation have shaped both my life and my career in ways I never expected. By allowing myself to let more light in, through reflection, purpose, and the people I choose to surround myself with, I have finally reached a place where hope feels real again.

When I first stepped out into the icy air of Fairbanks, it felt like the world was giving me a cold, beautiful nudge to pay attention. The northern lights were our first chapter—a quiet prologue of family moments under a sky painted in green and purple. That was the starting point, the place where I realized I had a choice to make about how I wanted to live my life.

I spent the daylight hours just strolling the city streets, phone in hand, snapping shots that felt more like sketches than masterpieces. But that was the beauty of it—no pressure to be perfect, just the joy of being out there, feeling the city’s pulse.

Our adventure into the Alaskan wilderness led us up the mountain to Alaska Pointe, a place that quickly became more than just a place to stay. It became our base camp. Our warm refuge in the deep cold. Our front-row seat to the Aurora dancing across the sky.

In the past six years, I’ve been learning to rebuild after losing my mother, father, and Steve—three pillars of my world. I’ve faced heart failure and the long climb back through therapy.

To mark each city along the way, I’m planning to get a tattoo in each spot—Atlanta, Seattle, Portland, and maybe San Francisco. Each one will be a pine tree armband or wristband on my forearm, a little piece of each place I visit, so I can carry this journey with me wherever I go.

Here’s to new adventures and never putting the camera down again!

This past January, around my birthday, I took a solo trip down to Virginia Beach from about the 20th through the 27th. I booked myself a cozy little hotel room, hoping the change of scenery might rekindle my love for photography. Funny enough, I landed right in the middle of a rare Virginia Beach snow day. It wasn’t a full-blown storm, but it was enough snow to close down half the town, which was both amusing and a bit endearing. I totally got why—they’re not used to it—but it definitely made for a memorable birthday trip.

Recently, I had the chance to experience a wonderful slice of Atlanta, and I’m excited to share those moments now. My good friend Allison invited me to tag along to an “unconference” in the city. While we were there, we took the opportunity to wander through the Atlanta Botanical Garden together, soaking in all the gorgeous blooms and lush corners of green. It was the perfect backdrop for a morning of peaceful exploration.

A Community Seen Through the Lens

Last week I had the privilege of photographing ProductCamp Atlanta 2025 — an unconference built by and for the product, UX and tech community. I wasn’t on the official roster, but I gladly stepped in as the volunteer photographer for the day. What I walked into was more than an event. It was a community with heart.

In the tapestry of our family's history, Aunt Betty was the radiant thread that bound us together, weaving a narrative of love, strength, and unwavering support. Nine years have passed since she left the mortal realm, yet not a day slips by without the echo of her laughter or the warmth of her embrace lingering in our hearts.

The spectrum of emotions we experience is bittersweet. Sadness envelops us as we reminisce about the beautiful times we had with you, cherishing the memories we created together. Yet, there's a glimmer of happiness in our hearts, knowing that you must be in a place of eternal joy, watching over us, guiding and protecting us from above.