Two months later, we sat together in the park—me, Junie, and Lizzy.
Sunlight warmed the grass, and both girls held melting rainbow ice cream.
“Mommy, you put popcorn in my cone again!” Lizzy giggled.
“You said that’s how you like it,” I teased.
Junie chimed in, “She only likes it because I did it first!”
Lizzy stuck out her tongue. “No, I invented it!”
We laughed—real, light, and free.
I pulled out a new disposable camera—this one lilac. It had become our tradition.
Capturing everything.
Messy smiles. Sticky fingers. A life rebuilt.
“Smile!” I called.
They pressed their cheeks together and shouted, “Cheese!”
I took the photo, my heart overflowing.
Junie climbed into my lap. “Are we going to collect all the camera colors?”
“And yellow!” Lizzy added.
I smiled. “We’ll get every color. I promise.”
My phone buzzed—a message from Michael.
I glanced at it… then looked back at my daughters.
He had made his choice long ago.
Now, it was just us.
And that was enough.
“No one can give me back the years I lost,” I whispered.
“But from now on… every moment is mine to keep.”
I wound the camera and stood up.
“Who wants to race to the swings?”
They ran, laughing.
And this time…
I ran with them.
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