Maisie took photographs.
Willa played music from her phone.
And Clara stood beside me.
Watching.
I smiled.
Then said:
“Everybody together.”
The children groaned.
“Mom!”
I laughed.
“One picture.”
They gathered beside the water.
Jory stood with his arms crossed.
Tobin made a ridiculous face.
Ned smiled shyly.
And the girls crowded around them.
I raised my phone.
Then paused.
For one terrible moment, I remembered the last photograph I’d taken before the disappearance.
Roscoe.
Jory.
Tobin.
Ned.
Standing beside the truck.
Smiling.
Unaware of what was coming.
My hands trembled.
Clara noticed.
She stepped closer.
“Mom?”
I looked at her.
She smiled gently.
“It’s okay.”
I swallowed.
Then raised the phone.
And took the picture.
That evening, we sat around a campfire.
The boys told stories.
The girls laughed.
And for a little while, the past felt less heavy.
Ned leaned against my shoulder.
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Do you think Dad would like this?”
