We measure life in milestones. Sometimes I think it’s the unmeasured moments that tell a better story. We snap photos of birthdays, graduations, weddings, firsts of all kinds. Yet it’s in the everyday moments that our photos color a richer story. Sure, I line up my boys in their party finery to take a photo, to preserve the rarity of a collared shirt and combed hair. But I also take random, unposed photos to document our life. It’s not so much to capture a moment or a milestone as much as it is to cement a broader memory of simply being, not doing. When I look back on these images I’ll not only see my sons, but what they were wearing, their mannerisms (and note the ones their carry into adulthood). I’ll surely laugh at what will be our outdated style and furniture. The trappings of family life will reveal our daily routines and interests – the pile of Rubik’s cubes on the floor, the iPad mixed among Kindles and books on the coffee table, homework and notebooks littering the floor, balled up Elite socks in an array of colors strewn under the couch, the dog, nestled into Bird’s lap or nuzzling next to Deal wrapped in a chenille blanket. At first glimpse these images look like a mistake, a shutter click version of a butt dial. But I very intentionally snap the moment to preserve it in time. The milestones are naturally etched into our memories, but it’s the everydayness of things we are apt to forget.
