There’s something about Memorial Day in Maine that feels deeply personal.
Maybe it’s the quiet American flags lining small town streets. Maybe it’s the sound of parade music drifting through town. Maybe it’s the way families gather together after a long winter, grateful simply to be outside in the warm air again.
But beneath the cookouts, beach walks, and beginning of summer is something far more meaningful.
Memorial Day is a day of remembrance.
For me, it is deeply personal. My uncle served as a Marine, and I have multiple other uncles who served in the Navy. My great grandfather was a firefighter. My husband currently serves in the Navy (almost 22 years), and service runs deeply throughout his family as well. His grandfather, stepfather, brother, and uncles have all served in the Navy. It is woven into the fabric of our family history and into the lives of the people we love most.
Even though our town canceled the Memorial Day parade because of the rain, my husband and I still spent part of the day visiting graves, paying our respects, and remembering those who served. In many ways, the quietness of it all felt more personal.
No crowds.
No noise.
Just reflection, gratitude, and remembrance.
Memorial Day is more than just the start of summer. It is a reminder that freedom is carried on the shoulders of those willing to sacrifice for something greater than themselves. It is a day to honor the men and women who gave their lives in service to this country, and the families who continue carrying that sacrifice long after the uniforms are folded away.
As a photographer, I think often about legacy. About the photographs that become priceless over time. The faces we never want to forget. The ordinary moments that someday become part of a family’s history.
A father holding his daughter’s hand.
A grandfather standing quietly beside the American flag.
A sailor laughing with family during leave.
A mother soaking in a moment she wishes she could pause forever.
The photographs we take today become part of the stories our children and grandchildren will someday look back on.
Living along the coast of Maine, Memorial Day also feels like the beginning of togetherness.
Families returning to York, Ogunquit, and other local towns.
Children running barefoot through the sand.
Generations gathering around tables, porches, and beaches once again.
And while summer moves quickly, these moments deserve to be remembered slowly.
Today (and every day), I am grateful.
Grateful for those who served.
Grateful for the families who stood beside them.
Grateful for the sacrifices made for freedoms we often take for granted.
And grateful for photography itself, because preserving the people we love is one of the most meaningful things we can do.
Wishing everyone a safe and meaningful Memorial Day.
With gratitude,
Katrina
