We’ve barely finished hugging when Jackson says, “Okay, picture time. I have a plan for us.” He points at Mom and Dad and then between me and him. “Remember this picture?”
He holds up his phone, and my parents laugh.
“Oh my gosh. That was such a fun day,” Mom says.
“We need to reenact this,” Jackson says.
“You think my back is strong enough for that?” Dad asks. “I mean, not because of you two,” he adds, backtracking as he points at my mom and me. “It’s this six-two man of muscle right here.” He pats Jackson’s bicep.
“I won’t put all my weight on you,” Jackson says, grinning.
I roll my eyes. “He’s determined to do this, so we better figure it out or he’ll bug us about it all night.”
“Damn straight. And you already admitted it was a great idea, so don’t go acting like you’re not dying to do this too.” Jackson holds his arms out, waiting for us to chime in.
“I don’t know if I’d saydying to, but it does sound fun.” I grin. “I won’t put all my weight on you either, Dad,” I add.
He laughs. “I guess we’re doing this.” He looks at Jackson. “Same place as this?” He points at the picture.
“Yep, to the Cozy Daisy,” Jackson says.
When we moved into this house, I insisted on naming the “important” rooms. The family room was the Cozy Daisy, the living room was the Yellow Rose, and the kitchen was super creative—Chicken Lickin’. Not sure why the Cozy Daisy is the only one that stuck, but it’s what we all call the family room, even our friends.
Dad looks at Jackson likeYou’re really gonna make me do this?Jackson just gives him a cheesy grin that makes him look like his six-year-old self instead of twenty-eight. He has a nice camera and sets it on the tripod, checking to make sure he gets the right angle. Then he points at the floor where he wants Dad to go. Dad groans as he gets on his knees.
“Okay, Papa, you okay doing this photoshoot?” Jackson motions for Papa to come over. “Make sure we look like this.” He sets his phone on the mantel next to Papa.
“I think I can handle it.” Papa winks.
Papa is the one who took the original picture and also the one who taught Jackson and me how to use his Nikon.
“I’m not as nimble as I was twenty-plus years ago,” Dad mutters. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
“John, don’t hurt yourself,” Mom says.
He snorts. “Too late. I’m down here. Let’s hurry this up, or I might get stuck this way.”
“We’ll just have to make it look like we’re on your back,” I say as I get in place first.
It’s a struggle to stay steady.
Everyone’s already cracking up.
“Don’t make me laugh,” I say, barely getting the words out. “Dad’s right, we’ve gotta do this fast. I haven’t been exercising enough to do squats here for very long.”
That makes everyone but Dad and me laugh harder. I wave at Jackson and Mom, trying to hurry them up. My legs are feelingthe burn as I hover over Dad’s back. Jackson gets on next, and Mom wipes the tears from her eyes.
“You’re so big now, there’s no more room on his back!” she says, pointing at Dad’s backside.
That sends us into another wave of laughter, and I’m so unsteady, I fall into Dad, who weaves, caught off guard. Jackson steadies me and waves for Mom to come on.
“Just get behind me, and don’t forget to look at us like you’re making sure we won’t fall,” he tells her.
“Mm-hmm,” she says through her laughter. “On this half-inch of booty that’s left for me.”
“Who you callin’ a half-inch booty?” Dad quips, sending us all into another round.
“No jokes,” Jackson yells, trying to rein us in but laughing too hard himself.
