Snapshot

As I was getting ready for the day this morning, I looked in the bathroom mirror and I could see down the hallway and into Blake's room. I could see him laying there still sound asleep, his face oozing childhood innocence. I could see Honey-girl (the dog) laying all stretched out next to him. Her dozing face had a look of complete contentment. A dog and her boy, snuggled together, snoozing in the early morning light.

I wanted to race downstairs, grab the camera, race back up and snap a picture. A moment caught in time... to remember forever.

But I knew if I even took one step down the stairs, Honey would end up in one of two places. She'd either take my absence as an invitation to climb into bed with Michael, or she would take my descent as an invitation to go out to potty.

Either way, the shot would be missed.

So there I stood in the steamy bathroom, staring at the reflection in the mirror. Imagining I could hear their rhythmic breathing, could smell the soft scent of Blake, could feel the warmth coming off their bodies.

A snapshot. One that will never grace the pages of the scrapbook. One that will never get sent to Grammas far and wide. One that will never hang, framed, on the wall. One that will never be shared with anyone else.

In my head. All mine. A boy... and his dog.