I wish I had taken more photos…
Today, my dog is seven. Like many people, when a milestone happens, I find myself turning to photos as a tool of reflection. I want to see Eddy as a puppy. I want to find that video of him barking at his own reflection on day one together. I want to come face to face with all the memories I’ve forgotten.
Every time I do this, I have the same realization: I wish I had taken more photos of our life together.
My iPhone photo count is approximately 48,141 and counting. I’m guessing yours is a similarly overwhelming number—too much to even think about tackling—so how on earth could I not be taking enough photos?
I have all these images, and yet, when I look back for the moments that capture what it actually feels like to have lived with and loved Eddy for almost seven years (I got him at four months, so our seven-year anniversary is still to come), I find that I remember capturing more of those moments than I actually have.
This also applies to my friends and loved ones—perhaps even more so. The friends I see every week? I mostly have photos from weddings, baby showers, and other milestone events. We have dinners on random Tuesdays all the time, but I rarely take a picture on those nights, even though those are the moments that comprise most of our year.
Why? A lot of the time, those moments aren’t aesthetic. Other times, it’s because on many random Tuesdays, I’m tired, and taking a photo feels like a chore. Also, we’re not influencers—it feels a little cringe to say, “Hey, let’s capture our clean-out-the-fridge dinner in between bickering about who does the most dishes.”
One of the biggest things I’ve struggled with as I’ve moved into midlife is holding onto my love for the magic of daily life. It’s so easy to be in cruise control, waiting for the next chapter or milestone to spice things up—and at this age, that next chapter is just as likely to be something trying and difficult, like a sick parent, as it is something joyful, like a promotion or the birth of a niece or nephew.
“Photography has become a way for me to rekindle my love affair with my utterly ordinary but completely unforgettable life.”
So maybe the argument isn’t to accumulate more images (48,141 is already too many), but to bring more intention to what we photograph and why–to remember. Maybe it’s also to let go of aesthetics, to release the pressure for the photos of our most quiet and mundane moments to need to meet a certain criteria. It’s enough to take a photo simply because you want to remember–messy kitchens, half-done projects, kids that seriously need a bath, and all.
Our camera rolls are our memory keepers—a trove of all the little things that make up our days. Photographing your cup of coffee, the way the sun hits your fridge in the early winter, videoing your kid’s late-night antics in really bad light when they are supposed to be in bed–these are the things we want to keep forever as a reminder of all we have lived and are still living.
Happy memory making.
Love,
Tori
Eddy and I on our first road trip at White Sands National Park.