A few weeks ago, in the midst of panic and chaos caused by having too much stuff to do, the OCD kicked in and I decided that I MUST organize all my personal photos on my laptop and iPhone.
I had backed up images from three different iPhones in the span of 3.5 years totaling thousands of images chronicling my life. I put it on my to-do list.
Yesterday, six weeks later, I sat down and spent the better part of 5 hours importing, exporting, deleting, organizing and sifting through each photo. It was quite a jog down memory lane. I relived the day the Kidlet fell and split her chin open – documented by the big bloody butterfly bandage picture I sent to her father. There was the night I first experienced drinking too much and the random blurry photos to show for it; the first time I met my roommate and the day my other roommate and I went house hunting; the day I fell on my face at a wedding in front of my clients and all of their guests documented by bandaged knees; the first time the Kidlet rode her bike and the night my marriage ended. All documented and now all in neat little folders. My life.
I always wonder, in the future, will someone go through my precious memories and wonder why the heck did this woman take so many pictures of the pier? Why is there a picture of a counter full of alcohol? Or save that picture of a piece of half eaten banana bread? But for me, when I am old and gray and my memory is faulty, I’ll have 4,859 (and however many more photos I take from now until then) moments to relive and they will make me smile (or cry).
Some are a little blurry, but they still serve their purpose…