Some people collect trophies. They have shelves full of plaques, awards, certificates, and shiny little reminders that say, Look what I did. Look what I accomplished.
And don’t get me wrong, that’s wonderful. Hard work deserves to be honored.
But me? I collect faces.
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My trophy case isn’t in an office. It isn’t behind glass. It doesn’t need dusting with a special cloth or polishing so it shines just right.
I show my faces off in a hallway in my home.
It’s lined with family pictures — babies with toothless grins, kids with messy hair, school pictures with questionable bangs, holiday photos where at least one person looks annoyed, and those beautiful, imperfect snapshots that tell the story of us.
Every house I’ve lived in, I’ve made room for that hallway.
Because those faces are my awards for my life.
They are proof of love, time, laughter, chaos, growth, and survival. They are my pride and joy. They are the legacy that keeps getting bigger, louder, and better with every new picture added.
Some people display medals.
I display my people.
And honestly, I think a wall of faces is better than any trophy case..
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