I recently loaded the OneDrive app on my Android phone so that I could have access to documents I’ve backed up to the cloud anywhere on any device. It won’t enable me to be productive everywhere, as it would be difficult to edit Scrivener files (the program I use to write my novels) without the Scrivener program on my phone. And Scrivener does not make an Android version. But OneDrive helps me find various documents and photos, particularly if they’re recent.
What I didn’t know when I loaded OneDrive was that it would start sending me images of all the photos I have stored that were taken on the same day in prior years. Multiple copies of these photos show up on my phone’s notifications each day—I must have stored some pictures in multiple folders.
Christmas, of course, is a time when many pictures get taken. At least in my family. This year, on Christmas Day, I was notified to look at images of my father-in-law and my parents, all of whom have been deceased for several years. Some of these brought tears to my eyes. And I smiled at pictures of nephews and nieces from years when they were much smaller than they are now.
I remembered the Christmas when my daughter had just had hip surgery, then, while still on crutches, caught the stomach bug her brother gave her. (She wouldn’t appreciate it if I posted the picture of her napping that Christmas afternoon.)
I remembered the blanket my niece knit her grandfather (my father-in-law) and my husband talking to his dad who rested comfortably under that blanket.
I remembered the last Christmas I spent with my parents, in 2012, just before my mother went into assisted living for the last eighteen months of her life. The day after Christmas, we all gathered at my sister’s house—my parents, my sister’s family, my brother’s family, and my family. I think it was the only time that my parents and all their children and grandchildren were gathered in one place. (One of my siblings was missing, but he’s been missing for over forty years, and that’s another story.)
The pictures we took that day of grandchildren only, of my parents with their grandchildren, of all of us were all on display for me to examine. Here is the best picture of all of us (note that I am one of the short people in the crowd):
But these memories are fleeting. Once each day is over, I can’t figure out how to get OneDrive to show that day’s pictures again. I’ll have to wait until next year. Or search my hard drive or the cloud.
Merry Christmas, a bit late. But then, Christmas has twelve days.
