My roles of mother-woman and blogger
force lead me to capture many moments, both mundane and marvelous, behind the lens. We all are privy to mom, life + style, and fashion bloggers posting only the most pristine snapshots of their daily rumpus. Admittedly, I wanted to caption, crop, revise, and mangle what follows. But these messy bits of near misses equates me. And I wish to see more of that from the mum blogs in their white-walled towers of ivy and sunsets. Maybe that’s just me, myself, and babe, but I happen to like my frizzy hair, no makeup, wobbly bitted self as seen below.
Let these images linger and lay about, collecting technological dust. For we are all growing up, up, up whether I will it so, or not. And all from behind the lens.
Any momma can relate to a phone practically out-of-service for all of the pixels residing within. Most of these images remain untouched and unseen by other humans. And I almost did not post the ones of my pockmarked face, my washed out and over bod. But last night, while finishing a novel about near misses and narrow boundaries between heart palps and human heads, I found myself scrolling through these images of the past fortnight and I could not delete them. I could not edit them. They sat in my phone as raw as they were quiet, and as boisterous as they were somber.
Though lives can be sticky, unmoving, even unpleasant, these moments are all mine.
Most will ignore this request, but I would love for you to direct message me an image from the last fortnight you thought of cutting from your phone’s shelf or even from your own memory. What do you do with all of those photos–particularly the ones you like? Are they transferred from phone to computer, where they will exist until computers are eradicated from our abodes?
Perhaps I should transfer them to CD’s or jumping drives. Or perhaps they should be thrown out with the dingy nappy’s. Or perhaps we shall see each one of our wee images reflecting a fraction of life quite differently, now.
It is hard to delete any memory of someone you are fond of, right? Even when you should. What do you do when your memory is much too full?