photos by Allie Clarke Photo
You know how your night self does little favors for your morning self? Wipes down the counter, lays out tomorrow’s clothes, tries to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Morning you returns the favor later, making the bed for afternoon you and sticking dinner in the crockpot.
Lately I’ve been thinking about that same idea, on a grander scale. What if 40-year-old me does something similar for 80-year-old me?
What would 80-year-old me want me to do?
I bet 80-year-old me would appreciate holding tangible photos rather than revisiting memories through a screen and a scroll. Maybe she’d flip through them, wanting to remember not just who’s in the photo, but what were we laughing about, too.
Thinking through this lens has changed a few habits for me.
I print my photos so I can hold them.
Not only does it feel more meaningful to revisit memories this way, but I also find it slows me down in the best way. They get pulled out more often, too.
I write a line or two on the back of my photos.
I don’t aim for a poetic caption. Just something like “Zoe got a princess makeup kit and will disappear for a long time with it upstairs. She comes down with her face looking wild and proudly shows us her work.” I mark the memory and the details and don’t overthink it.
On the back of my Mootsh sleeve, where there’s space for notes, I write a bit about the season.
It’s pretty much stream-of-consciousness, because if I put pressure on myself to make it meaningful, I’ll probably abandon the whole endeavor. So I just write what comes quickly to mind: family traditions we’re enjoying, new neighbors who just moved in. I set the scene a bit for the memories inside.
The last one is harder to describe.
I think I used to chase moments that would photograph well and look great on “the grid” and “the feed.”
But now I’m focused on capturing what feels real, and focused on capturing the feeling.
Then, I set down the camera to just be there. Because I think 80-year-old me would want me to.
If you ask me what it means to capture the feeling…it’s a “you know it when you see it” kind of thing. Most of the time it’s hiding in the most ordinary of days. Days where there’s no special occasion attached.
These kinds of days are so easily forgotten. Everyone has pictures of graduations and birthday parties. But I think my 80-year-old self will want to remember the days when we lounged around with a second cup of coffee and stayed in our pajamas past ten and let the house feel messy and lived-in and cozy.
I’m not doing any of this perfectly, but the point is that I’m doing it at all.
I won’t ever have a perfect archive, and that’s okay…that’s not what I’m aiming for. I’m aiming for memories that 80-year-old me can feel and step into again one day.
My night self does the dishes so my morning self can function. My 40-year-old self prints photos so my 80-year-old self has something to hold.