The Photographer

In this picture,
Dad is beneath the Eiffel Tower,
one hand raised against the sun.
My brother and I are laughing
because the wind keeps mussing
our hair.

Here’s my brother and me
chasing Dad into the ocean in Hawaii,
our feet stirring up sand
behind us.

Here we are at Disneyland.
My brother’s on Dad’s shoulders.
Mickey’s leaning toward me,
one white glove waving
to the camera.

Here’s my brother asleep on an airplane,
his mouth slightly open.

Here I am
a shell against my ear,
hoping it tells me
a mermaid’s secrets.

Here’s Dad in his Stones T-shirt,
the first time he reached the top
of Vernal Falls.

Here I am in pink
with ratted hair
for my Sweet Sixteen.

Here’s my brother
in an orange suit
for his junior prom.

Here’s Dad, again,
at his retirement party,
surrounded by people
Mom made sure to include.

There are hundreds more.

Pictures of birthdays,
vacations,
Halloween costumes,
Christmas mornings,
school concerts,
ordinary Tuesdays
that were worth capturing.

Dad.

My brother.

Me.