“Not really, but he’s the little one in that photo over there,” I say, pointing to the wall. “The one with the Army jacket.”
The photographer smiles widely. “I remember him. His daddy was away in the Army, right?”
I nod, that familiar lump in my throat returning. “He’s home now, but I’d love to get an updated version of Milo for his wall.”
She agrees. “Yes, I can picture it now. I still have the jacket too. Let me get the set ready. Give me two minutes,” she says as she turns, heading toward her studio. “I’m Helena, by the way.”
“Hollis,” I reply, following slowly as Helena removes the white cloud and the sky backdrop. She pulls a brown version down, stretching it out over the floor.
“How about you strip him down to his diaper? I think that’ll be a cute picture.” Helena goes to the clothing rack and pulls the Army jacket off the hanger. She pulls a small wooden crate from the stack and flips it over in the middle of the set. Then, she drapes the jacket over the crate, arranging it so it covers the wood and displays the branch of the military’s name across the floor.
“What do you think of this?” she asks.
“I love it,” I tell her, my heart galloping in my chest with excitement.
“Will he be able to sit on the crate? You can stay close,” she says.
“He should be okay. He’s practically a little monkey all of a sudden.”
When I set him down on the crate, his pudgy little legs on the floor, Helena brings over a helmet. “What do you think of this? I can set it on the floor, or it might be really cute if he’s wearing it.”
I can’t help but smile. “I’ll leave it up to you,” I say as the scene starts to come together perfectly.
“You hold it, and I’ll get my camera ready.” It only takes her a few seconds. Helena snaps a couple of pictures and checks the screen. “I’m ready to go.”
For the next ten minutes, she takes photo after photo of Milo. The little guy is all smiles as he looks at the funny lady making silly noises and faces at him. Tears fill my eyes as I watch, unable to hold in the emotion any longer. Unable to hide what this little boy and his dad mean to me.
“How about you stand behind him, Mommy? Kick off your socks and shoes first and slip back on his little blue jeans, but keep his shirt off. See if you can get him to stand up, holding onto your fingers,” she directs.
That’s when my heart basically explodes with love.
“Oh, I’m not….” But I can’t seem to get the rest of the words out.
Because in my mind, I want to be his mom.
I am his mom.
So I do as the photographer instructs. I stand behind him, my blue painted toes on display as I stand him up. Milo takes my fingers immediately, looks up at me, and smiles. I hear the shutter snapping, but I don’t pay it any attention. My eyes are cast down on the little boy who owns my heart.
“I think we got some amazing pictures,” Helena says, setting her camera down beside her. “I’m assuming these are gifts?”
Picking up Milo, I nod.
“I’ll have them ready Christmas Eve. I’m offering a framing special too right now for the holidays. Frames are forty percent off with the purchase of photos. You can get him dressed and throw your shoes back on. I’ll pull these up on my computer so you can pick which ones you want.”
I spend the next fifteen minutes placing my order. I’ve never spent money on professional photos before, and I’m a little surprised at the price, but they’re worth it. I order an eleven by fourteen of the Army jacket photo for Colton. Milo’s holding the helmet on his head and smiling a big grin at the camera, his first two front teeth on full display. I order a bunch of smaller ones too to give to family, as well as an eight by ten for Connie and Wes.
Then, I look at the one of Milo and me. You can’t see my face in the photo, only my legs from just above my knees and my hands. I’m not the focal point of the picture, though. That’s Milo. He’s standing in front of me, his little Buddha belly on full display. He’s smiling, but not at the camera. This time, he’s looking up. He’s grinning at me. And even though you can’t see my face, I know I’m smiling down at him too.
That’s why I order it and have it framed.
For me.
To remind me of the love and adoration I have for this little boy, who clearly adores me too.
We finish up our shopping, stop in the food court for a quick bite to eat, which includes jarred sweet potatoes and Hawaiian delight for Milo, and head for home. The snow is falling, sooner than anticipated, so I take my time. Even in Colton’s truck, I drive a little under the speed limit, careful to slow to a stop at all intersections. When we pull into the driveway, I finally feel like I can breathe. I didn’t realize I was practically holding my breath and completely tense until I’m parked safely in the garage.