Photographs capture special moments in our lives, so it was with disappointment I realized I missed the opportunities I had over the holidays to take a picture with my eldest son.
I’m not one for being in the picture. I’m usually behind the lens, so photos of me are few and far between. But I wanted a picture of my son with me, especially as Nick lives over 8,000 miles away and visits once a year.
I had only one chance: when I’d drop him off at Hobby Airport for his flight back to Taiwan. We pulled up to the curb, and the walkways were packed with frazzled travelers. I grabbed my camera and a passerby agreed to snap the picture for me.
One click. One picture.
I checked the screen, saw the image was there, hugged my son tightly and told him to let me know when he got back to Taiwan.
As he rushed off into the crowd, I said a prayer, asking his guardian angel to keep watch over him on his travels. On the way home, I’d glance at the camera, knowing for the first time in 10 years, I’d have a visual keepsake of mom and son.
Life came bounding along and I put downloading the pictures on the back burner. One morning, I lent my camera to a group of students, and when they returned, they asked me to check their photos.
I started scrolling and realized there were only seven images in the camera.
I tried again.
Just seven photos. My heart started pounding when I realized I’d never downloaded that picture of Nick and me at the airport.
Pulling the card out of the camera, I inserted it into a card reader, downloaded the images and looked at the computer screen.
Just seven photos.
I was devastated and began to cry, beating myself up for not doing what I knew I should’ve done, knowing I wouldn’t have a chance to have that picture taken again for another year, if that.
At that moment, Jeff Peterson walked into my room.
Jeff is the new computer information technician for our school, and he just happened to stop by. Although we’d never met in person, he instantly knew something was wrong.
When I tearfully explained what happened, he said he might be able to get the pictures back. Unless, he cautioned, someone had reformatted the card. Then all the information would be lost forever.
I handed the card over, sniffling, asking him to please do what he could.
Ten minutes later, I heard a ping, notifying me I’d gotten a new email. It was from Jeff with a photo attachment – the picture of Nick and me at the airport.
Of course that started the tears all over again, but this time, they were tears of relief.
I’ll never put off downloading pictures again and I’ll never doubt my guardian angel is watching over me.
One evening, she was disguised as a man who stopped to tie my Christmas tree back to the roof of my van because I hadn’t tied it tight enough.
She was once a mechanic who replaced a thermometer in my overheated van and didn’t charge me, seeing I was stranded in Mobile with my young sons.
On a trip to Louisiana, she was riding with me through the driving wind and rain as I crossed the Atchafalaya Basin.
This time, she came into my life wearing loafers and a tie and gave me back one irreplaceable moment in time.