I can take gorgeous photo’s of people, places, things. All the things. Just not of me. Maybe they are gorgeous, my husband will say so, but my face just doesn’t look the same in photo’s as it does in the mirror. Especially the mirror of my minds eye. It makes me sad. I want photo’s of me. Especially with my kids. Especially now that four are so far away.

Last month, on my last night with my moose, Cole & I took a walk on the beach. The beach outside of our condo was hard-packed and his arm steady. We got there right as the sun was going down and the sky went crazy with color. It was, there is only one word, breathtaking. This is easy to get beautiful shots of:

Driving to Isle of the Palms from Charleston we saw these giants

Taken the night before but equally gorgeous, just outside of Charleston, SC

The whole beach was aglow with a soft, cuddly, pink

Palm trees. Sand. Ocean. My happy place.

Just before the sun went all the way under.

One last burst of brilliance.

But I had wanted some of just me & moose. My arms are too short to take some selfie-style with my DSLR. Instead I have wonderful memories of those precious minutes on a beach. That soft sea breeze in my hair, sand between my toes, the quiet lapping of the waves on the beach. Seagulls. Salt air. And Cole. Talking up a storm, holding me up on the uneven surface. So my baby, and so a wonderful young man. I wish for pictures of those moments, but nothing could have captured the complete happiness in my heart to be with him. Just me. Just him.

Turns out, my beautiful boy felt the same way. He wanted some mother/son photo’s too. He grabbed me in the car the next day, as we were driving him down to Fort Gordon. His home for the next year as he learns all about satellites. With one of his first paychecks, he’d bought himself a phone. A real, fully-functioning smartphone.

But this one is my favorite. I feel in tune with my boy. On the same page.