Page 67 of Yours To Hold
“I love it!” She holds the phone up to me to see. “You can see my pink horse.”
The field is a blur behind us as we’re in focus. Willow’s mouth is wide open and Mason has a smile pasted on his face. My mouth is just as wide as Willow’s.
Every one of us is happy.
Mason looks over my shoulder at the photo. “Looks good.”
His voice is gruff.
I take the phone from Willow and look at it one last time. There’s nothing artful about this photo. It’s a little grainy from the movement. I didn’t follow the rule of thirds. The colors could be more balanced.
I don’t care about any of that.
It’s one of my favorite pictures I’ve ever taken. Because of the two people in it.
“Can we race down the slide now?” Willow asks.
“I’m so going to beat you.” I take her hand as she starts to skip toward the towering slides.
Kids are sliding down red, yellow, and blue slides on old potato sacks.
“Not if I beat both of you.” Mason runs ahead and grabs three burlap cloths for us.
“I think you’re going to lose.” I take the one Mason holds out to me.
“Oh, yeah?”
I nod. “The smaller you are, the faster you go.”
“That means I’ll win,” Willow says from between us.
“What if I win?” Mason asks.
“Are you wanting something?”
Willow pokes Mason in the leg. “Hurry up, Daddy! I want a corn dog after this.”
I can only laugh at how excited Willow is as she runs up the stairs ahead of us.
“If I win, I want a kiss at the end of the night,” I tell Mason as I pass him.
“Pretty sure you were already going to get one.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “What if I want something else?”
“Hmm. We’ll have to see who does win.”
We follow Willow up the stairs and wait our turn. As the riders in front of us go, we set our three bags down and take our seats. Mason leans over to Willow, whispering in her ear. She giggles.
“And go!” Willow yells, giving Mason a push before pushing herself down.
“Hey! That’s cheating!” I push off and slide my way down.
“You didn’t say when we could start!” Mason yells as he races down.
I hold myself forward, trying to gain momentum, but it’s too late. Willow slides right past Mason into the finish line, Mason shortly after her and me in third.
“That was so not fair!” I struggle to stand, my legs tangled in the burlap.
“You never said we had to start at the same time.” Mason’s voice is playful.
