While I cannot figure out the algorithm Facebook uses, it does occasionally plop a sweet picture in my feed from a few years ago.

"Remember this one? Share it so that others can see it too."

I do, because somehow they frequently come up with my favorites. The twins with baby chicks. A wedding. Benjamin singing. The photograph brings me fresh joy with absolutely no after taste. 

All of us have the most incredible storehouse imaginable. More space than a state of the art hard drive, higher def than a digital camera. Yet we scurry past the chance to retrieve them, like someone intent on their phone walking in their own front door past a stack of UPS packages. 

I like that Facebook suggests that we share them. Sharing is good, not because it sets up a competition, but because delight grows rather than diminishes when it is spread around. There are moms who post pictures of their babies laughing, or their toddlers in costumes, or their athletes after a game, and I get a piece of the pleasure. 

It is of course in the realm of possibility that I use another person's happiness as a reason to feel left out. It is also my prerogative to see it as in invitation to be included.