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“It’s not nothing,” Charlie reminds me as I refill my cart with books that need to be put away. “It’s the first punch in a long fight that we might not live to see the end of. But that first punch is everything. We just need to keep swinging.”
I’ve gotten to know her quite a bit during Mylo’s leave, and she’s become one of my favorite people. She’s tenacious and brilliant and one hell of a musician. With Mylo gone, I figured she might need some help, so I volunteered to run the returns cart around the library, shelving books.
Helping out at the library and working for the newspaper has made me realize that I’m not ready to get back on the road. Traveling for work and traveling for pleasure are two very different things, and though I know my wanderlust will never go away, I also don’t think I want to spend the rest of my life living out of a suitcase. Putting down roots in one place won’t prevent me from traveling wherever and whenever I want. I can still do that, but I’ll also have a place to come home to.
I doubt I would’ve realized that without coming home to care for Mom.
Waking up early the following day, I go for a run around the neighborhood, shower, and throw on a pair of black tailored, wide-leg trousers, my platform Keds, and a blue crop top that matches the natural color of Mylo’s skin. I throw my curls into a high ponytail and grab my camera as I head out the door.
There’s a crowd of kiddos running around the library when I arrive, many clamoring for their chance to give Mr. Mylo a hug to celebrate his return. He hands out books to each child, and they race off to their designated spot to start reading. Today is the library’s quarterly Read-A-Thon where kids ages three to ten can check out an unlimited number of books as long as they read them at the library.
Free snacks and beverages are provided throughout the day, and any child who reads five books or more by the time the library closes gets a gift certificate to Supreme Buns for three free sandwiches. The youngest participants are allowed to get help from a parent or guardian in an effort to foster a love of reading as early as possible.
At one point, I notice his nostrils flaring, and his eyes find me immediately. “Samantha,” he says, his hand covering his heart. “You are here.” His gaze drops to the camera hanging around my neck. “You brought your camera?”
“Yeah, I told Charlie I’d help pass out drinks and snacks, but between snack breaks, I’d walk around and take candid photos of the kids and send them to their parents.”
He looks confused. “Did she offer to pay you for this?”
“No,” I say with a chuckle. “I offered to do it for free.”
“Why?”
“Well, don’t go thinking I’m some selfless angel. I thought it would be a good opportunity to meet people and pass out my new business cards.” I hand him one, and I watch as he glides his thumb over the glossy gold letters of my name.
“Sammy Rod Photography,” he says, a smile playing on his perfect lips. “Wonderful. Well, thank you for doing this.”
He seems stunned, and slightly skeptical of my presence here, but that’s okay. I’d feel the same way if I were him. I’ll tell him the rest of my plan later when he’s not so busy.
Photographing children is surprisingly difficult, I quickly learn. Most of them don’t seem to understand what candid means, and the moment I get close, they start hamming it up, smiling so wide I can count all the teeth they’ve lost. Then they want to tell me about each tooth, and the gifts the tooth fairy left under their pillow for said tooth.
The parents love the photos, and once I get at least one photo of each child, I ask the parents if there’s a particular pose they’d like to see, or if they’d like to join their kids for an impromptu family photo.
I go from “Camera Lady,” to “Juice Lady,” to “Cracker Lady” in the span of an hour but having a group of kids cheering every time you walk by is an unexpected ego boost, and I eat up every bit of it.
Watching Mylo interact with the kids is the real treat, though. He’s a natural with them, praising them when they finish a book and genuinely engaging with them on what they liked or didn’t like. They adore him, which sends my heart into a constant flutter. It’s not like I want kids of my own, but seeing this gentler, sillier side of him makes me love him even more.
Wait.
I…love him?
As soon as the realization hits, it seems ridiculous that I didn’t come to it sooner. Of course, I love him. He’s been a bright spot in my otherwise gloomy existence for the last few months. He read to me and actually made me fall in love with the concept of love. I feel it fully now, and only for him.
By the end of the day, Mylo hands out seventeen gift certificates to Supreme Buns, which is apparently a new record. The number of participants is growing each quarter, and the overwhelming joy on Mylo’s face makes me melt. I help him and Charlie clean up, and when Mylo sets the alarm and locks up, I practically collapse in the parking lot from exhaustion.
“Man, kids are…a lot,” I mutter, tightening my ponytail. “They’re adorable and fearless, but also a lot.”
Charlie laughs. “I detect no lies.”
I say goodnight to Charlie and Mylo and start heading down the sidewalk toward my house, but a few minutes later, Mylo is yelling for me to wait up.
“Thank you again for your help today,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that makes him look shy.
Mylo isn’t shy. What’s happening here?
“I wanted to ask. What will you do with those business cards?”
“Um, probably hand them to people?”
