Each of us have a unique family dynamic. A story, a past, a history that is our own – storied and deep rooted. I suppose I am no different. But my family dynamic runs wide, rather than deep. I have the family I was born into, the family that became mine when I married, the family that has always loved me, and been loved, as though I’ve known them my whole life, though no blood flows common among us. And then there is my step-family; my step-father and his two children and their families. When he and my mother became a pair in 2004, I finally gained a real-live sister in his daughter, Gwen. We’ve spent the better part of these past years getting to know each other – settling in for talks at family gatherings. And though we don’t spend much time together outside of birthdays and Christmas, and other such events that are festooned with wrapping paper, cake, and bows, I feel as though I’ve known her my whole life. As though no words need be spoken for her to know just how much I completely adore her, and her beautiful family. Because she knows. Always has. Always will.

Two weeks ago, Gwen delivered her second son, Ryker (a nod to his parent’s love of all things Star Trek).  He came early , as Gwen’s pregnancy was wrought with complications and frustration, and after two weeks in the NICU-in which Ryker showed us exactly why captains are born, and not made-he is finally home.

He is perfect.

He is absolutely, blissfully, new-baby-fresh-milk-smell perfect.

Here are some shots from my morning with this amazing family -my sister’s amazing family-in shades of black and white. Because today, love feels like history. Like black and white. Light and shadow. Love feels like this: