Page 118 of Mountain Pine
“I have something for you,” mom says, gently squeezing my shoulder.
“Another old bucket?”
“Not quite.” She leaves the room and comes back with a big thick book.
A scrapbook.
“Your father and I had the best time picking all these photos out.” She rests it on my lap and fiddles with my hair again.
The first page already makes me emotional. “No way.”
It’s Conner and I at the park when we were little. We’re hanging upside on the monkey bars.
“I had no idea you took all these.” Flipping to the next page, it’s more photos of us. Some are just Con. Some are just me.
“You hated posing all the time, remember? I would sneak photos of you guys whenever I could.”
“Stalker.”
“You guys were always thick as thieves.” She points at a photo of me and him wearing scuffed up dirt bike helmets. He’s in a tattered T-shirt and jeans with the knees ripped out. I’m in a short purple dress and jeans. I think we’re about twelve in this one.
Page after page, photo after photo, my mom has managed to capture our love story right under our noses. One whole page is a series of us jinxing. The first photo we’re saying something to the camera, the second, we’re making the same face at the camera, the third is us looking at each other with matching expressions, the fourth is us both laughing, the fifth isus wiggling our fingers at each other.
We’re so happy.
Towards the end, when we’re older, there’s one that’s the two of us in my parent’s backyard. We’re sitting next to each other at the bonfire. Our backs are to the camera and it’s just our silhouettes, really. We’re watching the sunset.
The next page has my breath catching.
It’s a collage of Conner from the age of six to probably just a few months ago. In each one, he’s looking at me.
“That’s a man in love,” mom says gently. “He’s looked at you like that since the very beginning, sweet girl.”
Tears fill my eyes.
I turn the page, and this next collage is all me staring at him.
It’s all big smiles, bright eyes, and I feel it. Ifeelall these Taylors and how their hearts are bubbly and happy being with their best friend, loving Conner in all his phases.
The next page is blank and so are all the others after it.
“Thought maybe you could fill those with your next chapter,” she says.
I don’t have many actual photos. All my pics are digital, but now I plan to get as many as I can printed because this is amazing. “Thank you, Mom.”
She kisses my head and smiles at me through the reflection of the big mirror we’re in front of.
“Do you remember what you said to me the night you and Conner first met at the park?”
“No.” There’s nothing that stands out other than us becoming friends, making a magic potion, and metelling her that he shook when he saw his dad.
“That night when you were taking one of your ultra bubble bubbly baths, you looked me square in the face and said, ‘We’re getting married.’”
“You’re making that up.”
Mom shakes her head. “Swear to the heavens, it’s the truth.”
“I don’t remember ever saying that.”
