They've been piled haphazardly on a shelf next to my desk for nearly a decade, and I knew I'd have to tackle them eventually. Two weeks ago, I decided it was time; scooping up all the ones I'd found, I hurried to work and then dropped them off during my lunch hour.

Nineteen rolls of film. I knew what most of them were; I'd had 18 of them developed years before. Once scanned to photo CD, I could then upload the hi-res versions to flickr, swapping them out for my low-res versions on domesticat one directory at a time.

Ask people what they would save in a fire, and you will hear the same refrain of answer over and over again. Pictures. Photos. Snapshots. Wedding photos, baby photos, ancestor photos; they're as irreplaceable as they are priceless. (In reality? It's wishful thinking. When your world is aflame, you save yourself and hope for the best -- says she who came out of a burning house holding her glasses and one shoe.)

I knew what those rolls of film contained; all but a few were APS rolls, marking them as being from around 1999-2004, a time in which I traveled heavily. New Orleans, New Jersey, British Columbia, New York. I wasn't sure, but in theory, most of it would be there; I'm not one to toss film canisters.

I said it would all be worth it for one irreplaceable photo:

Amy and Jen, WTC1
by domesticat.
(Taken on my 24th birthday, atop the World Trade Center) [full photoset]

but there were other discoveries. Photos I didn't add to the site sometimes came as a surprise to me; moments I had forgotten until I saw them presented anew:

Garter and bouquet
by domesticat.
(Jeff's and my wedding in 1998 -- full photoset)

Most have been joyful things; photos that have been on my wall for years, with reason:

Mc and Mc
at Hillcrest, Little Rock, Arkansas, United States by domesticat.

But every CD -- and there are nineteen of them, all filled with photos that I had felt were worth keeping -- holds a surprise or two.

Jeff, Dan, Amy
by domesticat.
This photo moved me to tears. It's not the content of the photo; it's my expression, and knowing the date the photo was taken. Later that night I would get a call from my family to let me know my father, whom we knew had terminal cancer, was unlikely to live through the night. The person you see laughing in that photo was making a frantic seven-hour drive just a few hours after that photo was taken.

Unsurprisingly, I never posted the photo.

There are cat photos and silly snapshots; portraits of trips and memorable days -- and a disproportionate number of photos of Brad. (I've developed a theory: we only brought the camera out when he was visiting. It would explain why someone who lived two time zones away showed up on about half the rolls of film.)

In the end, they're my life. They're as bittersweet and poignant and funny as any wad of photos are to their owner, and as meaningless to anyone else. They're showing up on solecist.net as I add them to flickr, so some of you have already seen them.

Five CDs down. Fourteen to go, and another five to have scanned. Expect another photo post soon.