The Hard Drive That Held Their Childhood

This week has been about unpacking boxes, one small Allen key, & second chances.

I’ve been settling into our new home, scrolling Facebook Marketplace (far too addictive), & building what feels like an entire IKEA showroom.

Now that we’re finally more settled, I decided it was time.

Time to restore a hard drive.
Not just any hard drive THE ONE filled with my children’s childhood.

Yes, even photographers have hard drives that misbehave.

There’s an assumption that I back everything up in triplicate, stored in fireproof safes somewhere underground (I do) but the truth? I’m human. I left this one untouched for a month too long & hard drives don’t last forever.

When it fails, it’s not just data.

It’s first steps.
First days of school.
Missing teeth smiles
Birthday parties.
Long lost pets.

The ordinary days that turn out to be everything.

I remember when it failed. The sinking feeling. The desperate plugging & unplugging as if I could will it back to life. Nothing!

Being a photographer has taught me many things, but this experience reminded me of the most important one:

Photographs aren’t just images.
They are proof.
Proof that we were here. That they were little. That it all mattered.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s this:

Store your images in at least three places.
Update your hard drives regularly.

Get printed copies
And don’t ignore the cloud.

I don’t fully understand how “the cloud” works, are my photos floating somewhere above me?

Because one day, when the house is quiet and the furniture is finally built, you’ll want to open a folder and step back into a moment you didn’t know you’d miss.

And trust me, you never think it will happen to you.

Until it does.