and holland has tulips

Documentary photographer alana holmberg captured six months in the life of her cousin, alyssa.

There was only one person with Down Syndrome in the town where I grew up. His name was Brian and he lived with his family near my high school. Our paths didn’t cross much, but when they did, I never knew what to say or how to act around him. Fear of saying the wrong thing usually prevented me from saying anything at all.

My discomfort remained intact and unchallenged in my 20s – a lump in my throat that I knew was there but did nothing to budge. I suppose shame was where this work began. My aunt suggested I call her cousin Lois to discuss a project with her daughter, Alyssa. And Holland Has Tulips was a multimedia journal: a collection of thoughts gathered over six months about my cousin, our relationship and what it taught me.

Playgroup and ironing on Mondays. Chores on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Work at Kmart on Thursdays. Work at the local hairdresser on Thursday nights and Fridays. Football on the weekends. Week in. Week out. I’ve never been one for routine, and the predictability of Alyssa’s schedule felt kind of suffocating. But there was a comfort in it for her; a security and familiarity. I loved watching her write in her diary, carefully recording the days as they rolled by. Dinners at Grandma’s, doctor’s appointments, birthdays and anniversaries. She fit neatly within the schedule of her family. A cog in a well-oiled machine.

Alyssa lived at home with her mother, Lois, and sister, Carly. Alyssa was 21 when Carly started to lose her balance. First, she fell off her bike during the Christmas holidays. Later, she found it hard to pick up a glass. Soon, Carly required constant care. She was wheelchair-bound and had difficulty communicating. On Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, while Lois was at work, Alyssa became Carly’s primary caregiver.

The change was immediate. For the next eight hours, Alyssa was in charge. She was gentle but firm with Carly, insisting she chew her food and try to communicate. When we were alone, Alyssa opened up. I told her about a date I went on. The long wait for a follow-up text suggested there wouldn’t be a second. I guess I wanted to laugh with her about it. “At least you go on dates,” she replied, matter-of-factly. The lump in my throat appeared again. In the afternoons, Alyssa would switch on the TV. She’d glance at the clock as the time inched closer to 4.30pm, our normal stream of chatter slowing to one-word responses once her show began. The Bold and the Beautiful. She slipped into a world she’d known for more than a decade. Alyssa told me she watches for the fashion, but I think it’s the drama she loves. She’d squirm, screwing up her nose when someone kissed on screen. “Oh please,” she’d grumble. On Thursday mornings, Alyssa caught the bus to Kmart, where she worked as a fitting room assistant. “They’re like family,” she said when I asked about the other staff members. It’s a job she’d had since she left school and she was close to qualifying for long-service leave. On Fridays, Lois stayed home with Carly while Alyssa went to work at the local hairdresser. When I asked Lois about the future, she cried, and I wanted to cry with her. This home had so much genuine joy, love and laughter. The level of silliness was far beyond any other house with three adults living together. But what happens with people like Alyssa and Carly when they can no longer live at home? Alyssa and I became pretty tight. She shared so much with me that I found myself sharing, too. She’d often text me to see how I was or what I’d been up to. Every message ended with Lve Me xxoo. In the beginning, I was surprised at her ability to truly understand and describe her own feelings. I’d underestimated her. “I’m just like anyone else, I’ve got feelings,” she said when I asked what she wanted people to know about her. She trusts herself and her emotions, rarely second-guessing herself. I envy her for that. She learnt long ago that she is enough.

Six months after I started photographing Alyssa, winter had passed. Footy season was over. Ridge went missing on a tropical island, got rescued, then proposed to his ex-wife’s sister. The lump in my throat was gone, too. I guess that’s hardly surprising. We fear what we don’t know. If I met Alyssa today, I wouldn’t shy away from talking with her. Though I probably wouldn’t have a choice in the matter – she was definitely the conversationalist in this relationship. “I wonder where I get that from,” Alyssa said, raising her eyebrows at Lois. “I love my life because I’ve got wonderful people in it, people I love so much… and that’s probably all I need.”

See the full project at andhollandhastulips.com