I got my flu and COVID vaccines on Friday night, hoping to protect myself and my family. I spent all of yesterday sick in bed, alternating between hot and cold, sweating and freezing. Thankfully, our daughter is arriving later than scheduled.
How much later is she planning to be? She hasn’t texted us with an update. I’m glad she’s not tied to a phone like I have become. The waiting isn’t difficult. It’s remaining alert to the fact that she can decide at any moment that her time to shine has come.
So, we wait, patiently at times.
I want to document my experiences as a father somehow. I don’t know how, though. Do I use looseleaf paper and a binder, a notebook, a scrapbook? Would a digital option be better, like Word, blogging, or Instagram? Analogue feels warmer, more sincere. Digital has convenience and reach. I’m probably overthinking it.
My parents have VHS tapes with memories on them that we can no longer watch because we don’t have a working VCR. The printed photos in albums are easy to flip through. Of the thousands of photos I’ve taken with my phone, there are so few that I’ve gone back to look at. The photos that are printed and framed we see every day.
Maybe something is lost when it’s digital. Or, rather, something is gained when it is tangible. It has its own space in the world, preventing anything else from existing in its place. Within one small device I have a map of the world, all of my music, photos and videos of anything, and all of my communications, plus whatever else. It is everything all in one space with room for more.
Our daughter will one day take up time and space of her own, leaving behind her footprints, making her mark on the world. No medium will ever capture the full experience of being part of that for me.
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