Ten years ago, My now wife Sarah and I embarked on a journey that would test the edges of who we were and knit together the fabric of our love. It’s a story I’ve held close, not because it was a secret, but because the time to share it never felt quite right—until now.
In 2015, with a Fuji Instax camera in hand and a sedan as our only constant, we set out across the vastness of the western United States. It wasn’t just a road trip; it was a leap of faith. We didn’t have a fixed plan or a roadmap for where we would end up. What we did have was the kind of trust that comes from loving someone, flaws and all, and the hope that the open road would guide us to the answers we didn’t yet know we were searching for.
Two weeks. One hundred frames. A flawed boy and a girl in love, trying to figure out what that meant.
This wasn’t about snapping perfect selfies or cataloging places we’d been—it was about something deeper. We wanted to capture moments that moved us, images that held beauty or mystery, fragments of a world we were learning to see together. The camera became a silent witness to the small wonders we encountered—a shadow falling just right, the vastness of a desert, the glint of sunlight on an old roadside sign.
And then there were moments we couldn’t have planned, ones that etched themselves into memory as vividly as any photograph. Like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, caught in the middle of a lightning storm as the air crackled with electricity, the sheer vastness of it all reminding us of just how small we were. Or the first time we felt the Pacific Ocean together, its cold embrace washing over our feet as if daring us to step further into its icy unknown. These weren’t just sights; they were sensations—wild, raw, and unforgettable.
Looking back, I remember not just the images but the way they felt when we took them: the quiet joy of stumbling upon something unexpected, the unspoken understanding in a glance shared across the lens. That road, those frames—they shaped us. They became the story of who we were and what we hoped to become.
Now, ten years later, we’ve been married as long as these moments have existed. The years between then and now have been filled with chapters we couldn’t have imagined back then—battling cancer, a fight that redefined resilience for us both, and navigating the tender, messy, awe-inspiring experience of becoming parents for the first time. Each of these moments has stretched us, humbled us, and strengthened the bond we first forged on that open road.
For ten years, these photos sat tucked away, waiting for me to understand their significance. It wasn’t that I forgot about them—how could I? They carried a power, not just in the visuals themselves but in the emotions they preserved. I’ve always believed that stories reveal themselves when they’re ready, and now, I finally feel ready to share this one.
These 100 frames are more than a collection of images. They are a map of a journey—not just the miles we traveled but the love we built along the way. They remind me of the beauty we found not only in the world but in each other. And now, I hope they can remind you, too, of the beauty in being present, in finding intrigue and wonder in the ordinary, and in trusting the road to take you exactly where you’re meant to be.
