Clearing out, cleaning up, I come across a set of camera-phone pictures from July 4. She’d asked, or maybe he’d asked – I don’t remember which – “Can I take pictures with your phone?”
I handed it over. That night, I wanted to watch the sky, not a screen.
Now, on an October morning, I scan through the photos. Hundreds, all a second too late or too early. Showing either the beginning of an explosion, or the black sky with barely-there wisps of smoke.
Then, 153 pictures in, I find this:
Something worth remembering, worth saving, from a steamy South Texas night when we sat in our lawn chairs and watched the summer sky explode.
Something worth 153 clicks with a cell-phone camera.