The years that don't photograph well.
by Danielle Cross
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Some of the most important years of my life have almost no photos in them.
Not because nothing happened. Because everything happened. The years I was rebuilding, figuring things out, surviving something quietly. Nobody takes a photo of that. You don't pull out a camera during the year you're falling apart and putting yourself back together at the same time.
We measure a life by what got documented. The holidays, the launches, the milestones with a caption ready to go. But the years that actually shaped us rarely photograph well. They're not photogenic. They're just true.
I think that's why looking back at old photos can feel strange sometimes. The gaps say more than the pictures do. A whole year missing isn't a year that didn't matter. It's often the year that mattered most, the one with no evidence because you were too inside it to step outside and record it.
We've gotten so used to proof. If it isn't posted, did it happen. If there's no photo, was it real. But some of the realest things you'll ever go through leave nothing behind except who you became after.
I don't think we need to document everything to know it counted. The years without photos taught me more than most of the years with albums full of them. I just can't point to a picture and prove it.
Maybe that's fine. Maybe some years are allowed to exist only in you.
DX