My mom’s collection of photo albums is nothing short of amazing. She’s a picture girl and always has been, which you already know if you’re friends with her (or me) on Facebook. We tease my mom with an eye roll and a smile at every family function. “Oh god, another picture. Here comes that crazy lady with the camera.” But she loves those pictures, and so do I.
I spent countless hours as a kid flipping through the lovingly maintained pages of her photo books and still enjoy cozying up on the couch in the house I grew up in with an old album. There wasn’t a first day of school, lost tooth, dance recital, or even regular Saturday by the pool that wasn’t documented. The pictures in those days were as real as the love she has for me.
My photo albums are different. They aren’t stacked in hope chests or on book shelves, solid and permanent, albeit covered in dust. Now they live on a page buried in my ever changing Facebook and Instagram profiles. Mine aren’t accompanied with crinkling plastic and the smell of aging glue and paper; they’re cropped, filtered, tagged, and hashtagged. And this has me wondering.
Will my son be able to look back at his childhood pictures the way I did? Will a dropped phone, lost password, or extinct technology prevent Desmond from seeing himself grow up in the pictures I take of him? That would break my heart. I want my boy to know that I was there every step of his way, documenting the big moments, of course, but the not so big ones too.
So, my picture plan begins today. I will do a weekly photo post here on my blog and save these photos in a special folder. I’ll make a promise to myself that in a year, I’ll actually develop the 52 photos and put them in a good old fashioned album.
So, here’s Des – Week 1 of my picture project. He’s 5 months old and the absolute love of my life.