Storytellers: Erinne Fullam
It seems only appropriate that as I introduce my good friend and fellow writer, Erinne Fullam, I have a cup of hot cocoa by my side.
There are a few things that I always associate with Erinne: the love of a mother, the adoration of a wife, and her appreciation for hot beverages. We share those last two.
I found Erinne through her husband Gerry who works with me—and now with my husband, Chuck. Chuck and I were invited to their wedding before we were even engaged, and then we hired The Fullams to be our wedding photographers.
So in some ways, we have shared some of the most important moments in our lives. Our weddings of course, but I have also been truly blessed to watch Erinne raise, and photograph, her two boys: Shepherd and Archer.
To be completely honest, I look up to Erinne. Not only is she a devoted mother, but she is a brilliant photographer and writer as well.
I asked Erinne to pick one of her favorite photos, and to tell the story behind it. I hope her story makes your heart warm, like it did mine. Thank you, Erinne.
“Mommy, Archie spit up again!”
“Okay, honey, I’ll clean him up in just a second.”
“Mommy, can I watch Thomas? I need to watch Thomas. I need pretzels, too, Mommy! I need pretzels. I want to eat them and I am hungry for cheese stick.”
I pat my little boy on the head and sigh. I’ve had a to do list sitting on my desk all morning and I haven’t even read item number one.
“Okay, honey. I hear you. Let me change Archie and then we’ll talk.”
I finish taking off Archie’s wet clothes and lie him down in the giant naptime pillow on our couch. The sun is shining for the first time in months, and the windows are open, airing out weeks of winter dust.
I inhale the smell of melting snow. “Maybe we could watch the squirrels instead. They’re running around on all the branches out back! Come look!”
Archie seems content to go clothing-free for a little while, so I take a minute to lift Sheppy up on the back of the couch where he can press his nose up to the window and spy on the critters.
I immediately fixate on the giant mess of branches still covering our yard from last month’s ice storm. I grab my phone to text Gerry that we “really ought to clean up the debris.”
“AAAAH! A SKKKKWERRRRRRRR!”
His excitement shakes the window and I drop my phone onto the coffee table without sending the text.
The child hasn’t seen a squirrel since 2010, and he nearly falls off the couch onto his now-asleep baby brother when he realizes they still exist.
Lupa, our deer-colored dog that is roughly the same size as toddler Shep, hears him squealing and charges straight into the window to see evidence of her furry friends’ return. She scratches at the window for a few minutes and then curls herself into a neat ball, back against the screen, warming in the sunlight.
I watch the three of them on the couch for a moment. Giddy toddler, resting baby, lazy dog; and I decide not to worry about anything but the sunshine for a little while longer.
