Back then, my house was never quiet.
If you had walked in on any random afternoon, you would have heard at least three people talking at once. Someone would be arguing about whose turn it was to wash dishes, someone else would be running through the hallway, and the youngest would probably be crying because her brother took her toy.
That photo—me sitting on the couch with all six of them gathered around—was the only moment that day when they were actually still.
Sarah stood on my left, wearing that floral dress she insisted on picking out herself. Mark and Jason were behind me, trying to look “cool” like teenagers do. The twins leaned against the couch, grinning at the camera. And little Emily sat in my lap, hugging me like I was the safest place in the world.
The photographer said, “Everyone smile!”
And for once, they all did.
At the bottom of the photo, I later wrote:
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