Page 36 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
She releases me and wipes at her eyes. “Look at me, I’m a mess.” She laughs as Jasper wraps an arm around her. “But yeah, we’ll try to come home to see everyone.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll start editing the photos tonight and send you some peeks.”
Willa’s giddy smile has a matching one spawning on my mouth. For so long my sister was a shell of herself. I’m so happy that she’s finally healing. “I can’t wait.”
With one last hug for each of them, I’m climbing in my car and driving away.
Getting in bed, my laptop ready, I pull my camera case closer. Grabbing it, I pop the SD card out and into my laptop, loading up the photos I took today. Monroe is already fast asleep, Mr. Kitty clasped in her arms as she slips into dream world when I peeked in on her.
Going through the photos I mark my favorites and then go through them again to narrow it down to the best ones out of those so there aren’t too many that are similar.
I get to work editing, watching the clock so I don’t stay up too late.
Willa: OMG! I love it!
I smile at Willa’s text in response to a screenshot I sent her of one of the photos. In it, Jasper’s spinning her around, her smile eating up her face.
I edit a few more photos before deciding I better stop for the night. I tend to get carried away and let too much time pass. Packing things back into the case, I pause, noticing something sticking out at the bottom.
It takes me a few tries to get whatever it is out from under the flap of the case. I have no idea how something got lodged there, or how long it’s been there. I wiggle it out enough to be able to get my thumb and index finger on it. A triumphant smileovertakes me when I finally get it free. I look at the SD card with a mystified expression. Chances are it’s an unused one that got stuck some time ago, but something tells me to put it into my computer, so I do.
As the photos load, my mouth slowly drops open.
I thought I’d lost these photos. I remember being devastated when they vanished off my computer when Monroe was a baby. Losing these photos felt like losing a part of me, especially since taking them was helping to dig me out of such a dark place.
But there they are.
Hundreds and hundreds of them.
I touch the screen reverently as images of my sweet baby fill the screen. Her drooly face, and that soft blond downy hair that dusted her skull like little feathers. Flicking through the photos I’m overcome with so many emotions. I smile to myself at one I snapped of her sleeping on Spencer’s chest while he was passed out on the couch at my parent’s house. I zoom in on Roe’s tiny toes and feel my heart clench.
More and more photos come up and I can’t stop myself from going through them all. Picking up my phone I shoot Spencer a text.
Me: You’ll never believe what I found.
I don’t expect to hear back from him. I figure he’s out doing important celebrity things, but it comes within seconds.
Spencer: What?
I snap a photo of the image I had stopped on previously with Roe sleeping on his chest and send it.
Again, his response is almost immediate but instead of texting, my phone jingles with the ringtone that says someone is Facetiming.
I accept his call and I’m surprised to find he’s in what I assume is his bedroom. He’s wearing a plain white tee, his hair dark and damp from a shower.
“Hey,” he says, voice deeper than normal like he’s tired, but he’s smiling. “Where did you find that photo?”
I flip the screen so he can view my laptop and flick through more photos quickly before turning the camera back around to face me. “Remember the photos that disappeared when my computer crashed? Then I couldn’t find the SD card? Well, I found the SD card. It was stuck in the bottom of my camera bag and I never noticed. I think it was hidden by the flap and my other lenses.”
“There’s more?” His smile widens and he sits up in bed, shuffling something to the side.
“A lot more. So many. It’s like finding a hidden treasure.” I can’t keep the emotion out of my voice. Pictures of your baby are invaluable and to think I’d lost so many.
“Show me.” His voice is heavy with emotion, eyes pleading.
Flipping the screen so he can view my laptop, I scroll through the photos lingering on certain ones longer than others.
“I remember that day,” he says, his voice full of longing and maybe a little sadness. “It was her six-month shots, and we got ice cream after because we both cried when she cried.”
