Lately, I’ve been looking at photographs from pre-pandemic times.
At the beginning of all of this – of what has become our new normal – I ordered a scrapbook online and printed photographs of happy times from the past year. When the photos arrived, I immediately laid them all out on the floor and gazed at each one. I teared up as I thought about how uncertain the future would be. At the same time, I also felt warmth and gratitude in my heart, as I looked at the faces of people I love and who love me. I displayed some of these new photos around the house, and the rest in a pile, as I waited for my scrapbook to arrive. When it did, I placed it aside with the pile of photos, for other things had grabbed my attention. I was to start online teaching and needed to figure that out. I had books to read and puzzles to do. Scrapbooking could wait.
And then, just two days ago, I opened a drawer in my bedside table, where I found a collection of random photographs dating from 2015 – 2018. These were photos that I had printed over the past few years to display on refrigerators and in frames, and I had retired them to this drawer. There were photos from weddings, hockey games, vacations, snow days, gatherings. I held them, these precious moments, and knew I needed to honor them better.
I finally pulled out the scrapbook, and I took my time, starting with the old photographs from the drawer. I held each one, and I remembered. Going through the images made my heart ache with nostalgia, but it did something else, too – brought me comfort. I started to feel so grateful for all the trips and experiences I have had in my life. Ruminating on pleasant memories made me appreciate my adventures. I carefully sealed each photo inside and labeled it with the gold pen that accompanied the scrapbook. This process was incredibly therapeutic for me. It made me recall what life was like – and that it would return that way again, although it might be a while.
There was something about holding each photo, each memory, in my hand. Often now, we simply rely on our devices to store these remembrances. But we store too much – screenshots, insignificant meals, selfies. Flipping through pictures on a phone isn’t the same as carefully picking out pictures to print – only the best ones – and commemorating those special moments by placing them in an album or scrapbook. It’s a different feeling, looking at tangible photographs, each of which is cherished.
What took me a few weeks to finally fill the scrapbook was a lack of patience. It’s much quicker and more instantly gratifying to take pretty photos and just leave them on your phone, but putting photos in a book takes time. However, that time spent is wonderful and purposeful. Doing things by hand gives a feeling of satisfaction, especially when it means something.
I hope we never lose our connection to print. It’s part of why my blog name is The Honey Print. Keep printing your photographs. Create photo albums. Treasure your life and experiences. It’s a particularly perfect activity for right now. I hope we all come out of this with a little more regard for our lives and a willingness to slow down and savor them, and become a little less prone to taking them for granted.
