Page 103 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“I’m sure you won’t have to. It was good to see you again.” I stood awkwardly, not knowing the proper exit strategy. I tentatively held out a hand.

He chuckled, took my hand, and pulled me in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, Di. And buy the damn camera.” He kissed my cheek and released me.

With a half-hearted wave, I turned to walk back to our rig, forcing myself not to swipe at the tears forming in my eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

My sisters were smart enough to leave me alone for the rest of the night. I let them know I wanted the car the next morning, and they agreed with no protest.

To my amazement, I slept in the next morning. It was as if my mind refused to wake up and face the fact that Joe was going. No, far better to ignore the whole thing.

When I finally did wake up, I resolved to put all thoughts of Joe aside, just like I had after the aborted prom kiss: steel locks snapped shut on memories. I picked up my notes about the camera.

He’d been right about one thing. It was time to buy something for myself before too many opportunities slipped away.

Taking my notes and coffee outside, I found myself staring at Joe’s empty site. No doubt it would be filled with someone else soon, Joe’s presence erased like it had never been.

If only he were so easily erased from my memory.

A woman with three labs on leashes walked by. They were happy, bouncy, eager dogs; one yellow, one brown, one black. She herded them into her spot where her husband waited to great them. They were soon slobbering all over him.

Their trailer was half the size of our rig.

Next to catch my eye was a woman holding a small dog with white fur in her arms, while two brown versions trotted behind her. All four had matching topknots tied with identical ribbons.

It might be nice to have a dog when I got settled again.

Or maybe a cat would suit me better.

I had no idea.

With a sigh, I picked up the notes and started reading, my analytical mind sorting and categorizing the research I’d done on cameras and what they could do. I was still coming to grips with some of the arcane terminology that seemed to matter when capturing a good photo. Why did a lower f-stop allow more light into the camera? If film didn’t exist anymore, why did cameras track ISO? Jane had assured me I’d understand all of this in time. I needed to be patient with myself.

Then I took out my phone and scrolled through the photos I had taken, seeing what I’d attempted. There were pictures of the mud pots where I’d tried—and failed—to get a photo of a chocolate bubble popping. And a couple of attempted action shots of my sisters. And Joe.

I scrolled quickly past them.

So, action shots were important to me. That meant a camera that was able to take photos of action.

Most of my shots of flowers and foliage were a little bit blurry. I had no idea what that meant, so I wrote down, “blurry flowers.” Jane would figure it out.

Broad scenery photos were important, as was the ability to have strong light and shadow—contrast.

By the time I finished reviewing my notes and photos, I felt comfortable enough to go to the store and let Jane know what I wanted. Then find out if it was something I could afford.

Why not? I wasn’t doing anything else with my money. We’d used our combined incomes from the year’s take on the ranch to buy the RV, so there wasn’t any expense there. My income from the few clients I had covered my living expenses.

It was, as they said, a no brainer.

Why couldn’t love be as easily analyzed and dealt with?

I sipped my coffee and stared at Joe’s space, which the park personnel were inspecting. Everything must have been in order because it didn’t take long.

My chest ached. I was already missing him.

Change your focus!

I finished my coffee.

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