I couldn’t think of what to write today so I turned to my handy dandy 300 writing prompts journal. I flipped through page after page and thought I was going to write about “If you could pack up and leave on vacation today, where would you be off to?” Then I kept flipping and stopped at “Is our world today a better or worse place than it was when you were a kid?” I started planning for that one. But then the book almost closed on itself and the very last page was left open. The prompt was “Describe your favorite photograph.” That one stuck with me. I knew the answer right away.
There is a picture of me at the beach at night. I am on the sidewalk, sitting on a pillar of a bike rack. In my hand is my cell phone. I have a look of shock on my face and a bit of excitement. I am wearing a green long sleeve shirt that is covering my hands and I think tan capris. What makes this picture memorable has nothing to do with the image itself. It’s the memory that is invoked every time I look at it.
I can feel the humidity on my skin and the salt on my face. The ocean breeze softly blows as my phone rings. My nerves are on edge when I look at the number. It’s an international number and I know only one person who would call me from out of the country. My friends tease me. It’s Tyler. He’s in Iraq in a war and the boy I have a crush on is calling me. I know nothing is going to happen between us. The age difference. Him being in actively in the middle of a war. Nevertheless, I am giddy, excited that he is alive.
I say “Hello,” there is a delay in his response. But I expect that.
My friend snaps the picture, and the flash goes off when he finally says “Hello.”