When you are 8

When you are 8 years old

by Lilly DeLatour

When you are 8 years old the world is always an adventure.

Your favorite thing to do is climb, hike and find cute animals.

(Oh did I mention I love cute animals)

When you are 8 years old the world is hard for you.

You feel like your head is going to explode.

When you are 8 years old you feel love from animals,

and you always love them the most.

When you are eight years old the world is frightful and fun.

You never know what will happen next.

In 10 minutes you could break your arm,

or you could be holding a bird in your hand.

a soft spot

Man oh man do I have a soft spot for this family. Bijou shares a birthday with my daughter and I see so many sparkly similarities. Thank you Liz for having me capture your sweet family last fall, and sorry for the super long delay in sharing all your cuteness.

Dres might also be the sweetest big brother I have ever met.

Floyd Family

I think Yeti was excited about getting out.

The Space Between

Most of my days are spent editing. Editing photos, stories, my family and myself. I prune, correct, beautify, smooth, twist, rearrange, and bend so that I can see the light just the way it is in my mind. Redemption pulses wild within me, so much so that I often forget to see this moment, unaltered, as beautiful. I forget that things just as they are, in their purest truth are worthy of adoration and attention. Who am I as a raw file, and what are my stories without the matt surface I paint with words and pictures?  I forget to breathe and enjoy my life just as I am. I scroll through Facebook highly aware of the gloss I am observing and I wonder if there isn’t a way for me to tell a more whole story. To share in a way that presents the complete spectrum of life. To sit together in the mud, and embrace full joy simultaneously.


I’m realizing I need a place to be less edited. Less shiny/polished, and more ok with where things are. What would it be like to share things as first drafts and raw files? Would I feel more freedom, wholeness, and joy in the honesty of it all, or would I struggle feeling like an artist without tools? This concept is tricky for me because my core being is always striving to grow, beautify and change my reality. I am constantly trying to evolve with my desires to be more loving, more patient, more creative, more caring, more intentional, more, more, more. It’s exhausting without the ability to be grounded/accepting in my reality and where I actually am. I want to practice giving thanks for everything, in everything, and I also want to give weight to the pain and suffering because often it’s heavy and unchanging.

As a high self-monitoring introvert who is intuitive and sensitive, life, regardless of what is going on can be hard. Did I correct too hard? Am I an okay Mom? Will my kids survive and remember this day forever? Will we make it through this tough situation still loving each other? How can I improve? How can I grow? How can I rest in the full joy I am given by being alive? Conflicting thoughts and ideas race; contradicting each other as they wrestle for the last spot in my game of mental musical chairs. Sometimes it’s civil and sometimes there is shoving and fighting for the position I will hold as my truth.


My inclination is to protect myself from the harsh reality of where I am as a human. Embarrassed by my lack of knowledge, stability, or confidence, I shy away from sharing or speaking up. I use commas in odd places, format incorrectly and forget what I’m saying and the rules of the game.  What if I share and regret? What if I change my mind? Is there an erase button once others have seen? How do I live fully in this space between feeling good and dissatisfied, between reality and redeemed?

So my question is, can I be unpolished and share? Can I vulnerably express as an imperfect being and not get cut off at the knees? Can I be honest and still create beauty in my reality?


As my clients, fellow moms, family and friends I hope we can explore the space between together. I want to share more here in addition to yummy babies, families captured at the golden hour, and wedded bliss.  My desire in sharing would be to lighten our loads of pressure and breathe a sigh of relief in unison. I won’t have an editor proof my writing nor will I have time to lament over this or that if I share. It’s going to be rough and perhaps a little unfiltered. My hope in doing so would be that you will feel encouraged entertained or amused.  My hunch is that the waves that crash and swell within me are likely in you too. I’m guessing that if we all pat each other on the back and said “me too”, our world could be less confusing and challenging.

Golden Gardens Family Portrait

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