The Wall I’ve Been Thinking About for Seven Years
I realized recently that I have two accomplishments I’m genuinely proud of right now.
Not career milestones.
Not productivity wins.
Life ones.
One of them is our gallery wall.
A Thought That Lived With Me for Years
I’ve wanted a gallery wall for about seven years. Longer, if I’m being honest.
Before I got married, I had this picture in my head. One day, when I have my own home, I want a wall filled with professional photos of my family. Not stiff portraits. Not forced smiles. Real moments. Personality. Motion. Life.
That idea came from a movie I watched years ago with my mom, The Joneses, a 2009 comedy-drama about a family who moves into a neighborhood as undercover influencers before “influencer” was even a word.
They had everything. The nicest house, the newest things, and most memorably, a staircase lined with professional photos of themselves making funny faces. Candid. Effortless. Stylish. It didn’t look posed, it looked lived in.
That image stuck with me.
I remember thinking, I want that one day. Not the stuff, but the feeling.
Seven Years Later, I Finally Did It
We’re seven years into marriage now, eight this July, and we finally put those photos on the wall.
Maternity photos.
One-month photos with Makeda.
Moments that represent where we are right now.
I kept putting it off. Life moved fast. There was always something else to do. But one day, I just decided it was time.
And now, every time I look at that wall, it feels like a pause button.
Why the Photos Matter So Much
This was our first time doing what I’d call a high-investment photo shoot. Around seven hundred dollars each session, but it included travel, time, intention, and someone who truly specializes in what they do.
That mattered.
She wasn’t trying to make us look overly polished or overly edited. She captured mood, motion, and something real. The photos feel artistic without feeling fake. You still recognize yourself in them.
It reminded me that you’re not just paying for pictures. You’re paying for someone’s eye. Their experience. Their ability to see what you can’t.
And honestly, it was worth every penny.
Slowing Down Enough to Notice What Matters
Hanging those photos made me realize something bigger.
Life still feels fast, even when you’re trying to slow it down.
Makeda is almost eight months now, and it genuinely feels like time is sprinting. We work from home. We spend a lot of time together. We intentionally protect evenings and weekends. And yet, it still feels like everything is moving quickly.
What helps is creating moments that force reflection.
The gallery wall does that.
So do family routines.
So does sitting together after five o’clock with popcorn and a show neither of us is half-watching.
Slowing down doesn’t always mean doing less. Sometimes it means being more present with what you already have.
Learning to Thrive Within Limits
I think a lot of this traces back to the years when everything shut down.
That period was hard, tragic, and deeply unsettling in so many ways. But one thing it taught us was how to thrive within restriction. How to create joy without constant movement. How to build a life that works inside your home, not just outside of it.
That lesson stayed with us.
Now, with a baby, it matters even more.
We’ve learned how to create little pockets inside our home that feel intentional. A play area here. A cozy evening routine there. A wall that reminds us how far we’ve come.
A Quiet Form of Cheerleading Yourself
What struck me the most while looking at the photos is how rare it is to stop and acknowledge what you’ve done well.
It’s easy to focus on what’s next. What’s missing. What you should be doing.
The wall does the opposite.
It says, look at you.
Look at what you built.
Look at the life you’re living.
Sometimes you have to cheerlead yourself visually. Not loudly. Just enough to remember.
The Bigger Picture
At one point, we were just dating. Sitting outside my parents’ house. Taking casual photos that felt important then.
Now we’re married, years in, with a child, hanging family photos on the wall of our home.
That perspective is grounding.
It reminds me that slowing down isn’t about stopping ambition. It’s about aligning it with what actually matters.
For me, that’s family.
That’s presence.
That’s building a life that feels full without being overwhelming.
And sometimes, it’s as simple as finally hanging the pictures you’ve been thinking about for seven years.
