“Where did you find that”, Dad asked when I showed him the old polaroid.
“It was in a box of stuff, mostly pictures, that we got when we cleared out Grandma’s house”, I said. I teased him about being a show off stud muffin and he smiled.
“Your mother took that”, he said. “We were staying in the back bedroom at Grandma’s and we were on our way to the lake for the day. Grandma kept you because you were too small to tag along. Truthfully we wanted to party with our friends and didn’t want a kid to slow us down. How many times have I wished you had been with us, or that we had just not gone. Things might have been very different.”
“So this was taken the day Mom died?”, I asked, incredulous that this photo was a memento of that day.
“Yes”, he said, “we were fooling around and she took it before we left. I guess Grandma found it and tucked it away.”
I thought about all the stuff we had hauled out of Grandma’s house, some we kept but most we threw away. No telling what stories and secrets were lost.
Trying to lighten the mood he said “not bad, huh?”
“Yeah, not bad. Maybe a little chunky”, I said, trying to smile. “And that moustache. What were you thinking, Don Juan?”
“Zorro. I remember she laughed and said I looked like Zorro.”
“Maybe. Chunky Zorro. I doubt he had a tattoo.”
“Another decision I should have thought longer about”, he said.
Story by Steven Yancey
Me: What do you love most about life?
Me: Are you saying that because we just did it?
Me: What is something you couldn’t give up?
Me: What about being an artist? Photography?
You: What would YOU rather give up, sex or photography?
Me: Oh, fuck… I feel like I should say photography. A part of my would just die, if I had to give up making art, but I don’t know if I could live without sex.
You: I need sex.
Me: I need you.
Story by Allison DeBritz