We're losing the light, M said, pulling a folding chair ahead of creeping shadows.
Ideal daylight brushed by treetops and melted across a quiet backyard where a couple of pros edged the not-so-pro along with photo lessons.

Even a snapshot is worth the world...

In another backyard almost 30 years ago sat a chubby-faced kid on her dad's lap. He reached around her to pull a steamed clam from its shell, and as he dropped it in butter someone took a picture.

Behind my father and sister is a long-lost backyard where I played in the dirt, jumped off the garage, fed my rabbits and then saw them die as a neighbor's dogs tore through, hid in a fort, crashed my bike into cedar trees after hitting a jump, learned to laugh, and learned to be scared.

Behind them I see the old stone driveway with my grandmother's car. Gravity had pink and white peony blooms by their heads, and a bike sat on its side with rusted handlebars.

My sister's puffy kid fingers rode along on my father's thumb when he fished his steamer out. Happy Birthday Kara!