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“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen! That's crazy! I only have four!"
"My dad is one of six brothers. Some of them had a lot of kids." He smiles looking out onto the ranch, the gentle slopes made visible only by moonlight, the porch’s illumination brighter around us. “Most of them live in Atlanta, and they would come up, ride the horses, play with the chickens, pet the cows."
Wistfully I say, “I want to do that.”
"You'll be riding horses tomorrow."
"Oh my God!" I cover my face. "I'm so excited!!"
He grins and points. “You see those trees over there?" I nod, staring more closely at them. “We built forts over there. Gathered everything we could, from small sticks to huge branches, even broke some of our own. Then we stood them up until we could climb inside and hide out, telling scary stories."
"We used to tell scary stories when we went camping on the beach. There are some beaches in Malibu where you can rent a space, prop up your tent, and sleep right next to the ocean. I don't know why we told scary stories. I hate horror films. Life is scary enough."
"Do you think life is scary?"
Thoughtfully I shrug. "I don't know. There are a lot of bad things happening in the world. But I try not to think about them. Then you watch a horror film and people are doing horrible things to each other and I just don't find it entertaining. There's so much good in the world, I would rather focus on that."
“I was thinking about that beautiful photograph you showed me.”
“You were?”
“Are you a photographer professionally?"
I bite my lip, head down. "I haven't told anybody this…" Glancing to him, I inspect his face to see, oh, I don't know, if he's listening? If this is the right time to divulge what I haven't said aloud even to myself much less to another human being. "I would love to be a photographer. But the industry is so saturated, isn’t it? Everybody can take a photo on their phone. I just feel like it's my happy place, though. When I'm taking photographs, nothing else is happening around me. The whole world disappears and it's just me, my camera, and my subject. It just feels like a dream worth shooting for." On a laugh I point out, “Pun intended. No. It was an accident but I’ll claim it anyway.” Taking the pebble from him, I turn it over in my hand. “There is so much beauty in the world. Even in this. This little thing was probably once part of a gigantic boulder and now it’s round, not hard edges, but it could break glass if you threw it hard enough.” I look at Ben, holding up my tiny stone. “If you threw this at my window, do you think it would break?”
“What did you just say?”
“If you threw this pebble at my window, is it too far to break? Or because you’re so strong, would it shatter the glass?”
“If I threw a pebble at your window, something might break. Or change.” He stops talking, staring at the ranch.
“What do you mean change? Because it would scratch the glass?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, I hate being intoxicated. My brain can’t keep up anymore.”
“Are there photographers in the world? Making a living?"
My head cocks to the side. "Of course."
Ben reaches over and takes my hand, the pebble held by us both. “Then why not you?" We stare at each other and it’s so beautiful a moment that I take a mental photograph. “Willow, I think you can do anything you set your mind to. Everyone can. If someone else is doing it that just means it can be done. It's possible."
I repeat, “It’s possible."
"Say that again but the whole thing."
"It's possible.”
“The whole thing.”
I inhale, chest rising with the large intake of breath. “It’s possible for me to be a professional photographer."
Our fingers intertwine. "How does that feel?"
"It gives me goosebumps."
