Barbara McDonnell

Lingering Presence

My father passed away in the house where my brother and I grew up, a modest suburban home built in the 1920’s. It was a comfortable house made of brick and my parents moved into it at the end of WW2, when my father finished his service with the Army Corps of Engineers. I photographed the interior of the house as we went through everything left inside, as a way of remembering what would be gone forever, as the house was soon torn down to make way for a small park.