Page 105 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I was already spending too much.

It was a bargain.

I didn’t deserve it.

Joe would encourage me to get it.

Larry would tell me I was wasting my time.

My mom would have simply smiled.

All these voices in my head. Which one was actually mine?

Jane came out with a box. She undid the wrapping, then swiftly changed lenses. “Go back outside,” she said.

The camera was off balance from the heavier lens, and it took a few moments for me to adjust to it. Focusing was easy—once I remembered to take off the lens cap.

I zoomed in on a rounded-bellied older man in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt licking an ice cream cone. The expression on his face was like a young boy on a summer day. I focused in on the expression and clicked.

One of the crows took off from a nearby roof, and I tried to get him in flight. Checking the photo like Jane had showed me, I was disappointed in the black blur.

Another thing to learn how to do.

But that was what the camera would give me: an opportunity to keep learning. Like a body, the mind was a use it or lose it proposition.

“I’ll take it,” I told Jane when I walked back into the store.

“Good. You will make good use of it. I can tell.”

I ignored the momentary panic when I handed over my credit card.

“Call or email me if you have any questions or problems,” Jane said as she handed me the bag.

“Thanks for everything,” I replied.

“Just take wonderful pictures and enjoy yourself. That will be thanks enough.”

I walked out of the store, my nerves racing with conflicting emotions: joy, fear, and anticipation.

~ ~ ~

A new family was setting up in Joe’s site when I walked past toward the river to take some pictures with the new camera. I’d gone back to the original lens, figuring I needed to understand that before graduating to the longer lens.

How I wanted to show Joe what I’d gotten! He would have appreciated it, asked me questions, encouraged me to explore. My sisters had been encouraging, but I missed his unbridled enthusiasm for life.

I would find joy without him. In spite of his protestations, I was sure he would be involved with someone after we got back from our trip. I tried to imagine him with either of the women from church who’d been eager to latch onto him.

Who would land him?

A tall Amazon with medals in fly fishing? A widowed stay-at-home mom with talent in the kitchen? A retired teacher who could discuss plot points? Or a woman who oozed sex simply by walking? Those winter nights in Ennis could get cold.

I walked the path by the river, my feet taking me to our favorite fishing spot. I stood there for a moment before taking a picture.

I crouched down and got a shot of the water tumbling over the rocks. Although these didn’t have the bright reds and greens of the rocks at the bottom of Lake MacDonald in Glacier, they were pretty in their muted yellows, browns, and umbers.

Pulling out the crib sheet I’d made before I left, I played with the settings on the camera, taking a picture after each adjustment. I made notes on the paper of what I’d done. It was analytical, painstaking, and it forced my mind away from the subject it most wanted to contemplate: Joe.

Eventually, I stood. My sudden appearance startled a buck across the river and he stared at me. Slowly, not wanting to scare him away, I raised my camera and took a shot. He graced me by staying still for a few more before the noise of someone coming up the trail scared him away.

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