The dreaded message came this week. The one I’d managed to avoid all these months, but that I knew was coming some day. “Out of memory.”
My picture-taking, video-shooting, app-downloading habit had caught up with me, and now my phone was busting at the seams.
I knew it was coming, because friends got the message before me. And I knew that there was really only one solution: delete.
Delete? Those thousands of pictures, documenting nearly every day of Teddy’s life? (OK, nearly every day for the first handful of months, then nearly every other day, then nearly every week, now closer to every month. But you know what I mean.)
I love going back through those pictures. For so many of them, I can remember just where we were when they were taking, what we were doing, who we were with, what they represent. A week old. The shot for his birth announcement. The first time we went for a walk in the Moby. The first time I managed to get Dunkin Donuts AND then go for a walk with the stroller. They were big accomplishments at the time – and still, now, in my memory.
It doesn’t matter that I have them saved to my computer, backed up on a thumb drive AND saved to Snapfish. I hated to delete them.
So, I didn’t. Well, not all of them, anyway. Enough to make room for the new ones that need to be added (and for Facebook to finish uploading – hey, I need something to do on my commute). I left enough behind for quick trips back down memory lane.