The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,150

doing better every day, coping in her own private way—being in love with Seth, and finally admitting it, has a lot to do with her healing. And Seth, well, Seth is still Seth and he’ll never change. I love him to death like a brother, and he looks after me when Luke isn’t around. But he doesn’t live with us anymore. Shortly after I moved in, Seth took it upon himself to move out. He wanted to give us our privacy, but also I think maybe it would’ve happened eventually, him and Kendra moving in together and all. They are a weird and crazy couple; they fight and they make up and then do it all over again—I think they like it. But they’re perfect for each other. That’s pretty obvious to all of us.

Mom and Dad are going to Cozumel, Mexico, next summer. And they sold the boat.

And as far as me, I’m happy to say that my passion for photography may finally be taking off as a career, too. Aside from my website, I also started selling some of my work on a few stock photography sites. Then I began sharing on Flickr, and to my shock, I had my Flickr Moment and was featured on The Weekly Flickr and had an awesome video about my work made.

That has helped change things a lot.

And today is a big day for me—I can hardly sit still.

I hear Luke walking up the front steps, coming back from checking the mail. He’s taking his time on purpose because he knows it’s killing me. When he opens the screen door, I just freeze, staring at him from the living room.

“Did it come?” I ask eagerly.

He shrugs, acting all nonchalant, a stack of mail in one hand hidden behind what looks exactly like a magazine. I know that’s it. And he knows that I know, but I promised him I’d wait.

He walks casually past me and into the kitchen.

“Come on. Is that it?” I ask him from behind, my voice whinier than usual.

“Maybe,” he says and slips around the corner.

I know he’s grinning.

“How long do I have to stand here?” I call out from the living room.

“Just a minute,” he says.

I hear him shuffling paper around, the pages of the magazine maybe. Then I hear the sound of Scotch tape being pulled from its plastic contraption.

Soon he’s coming around the corner with the National Geographic magazine in his hand.

I press my hands together in front of me against my chest and squeal a little, bouncing up and down on the pads of my feet.

He smiles as he walks toward me and places the magazine in my hand.

I can’t get the pages flipped fast enough. First I check the table of contents and navigate my way to the section on the winners of the Old World– New World Photography Contest. Turning the pages quickly, I do that bouncing thing again when I see my winning shot of an old man of Polynesian descent sitting on a rock on the beach displayed near the top of the page. I didn’t win first place, but I’m just happy to be in the magazine at all.

I point to it. “Look. My name is underneath it”—I’ve been talking about this for weeks, about seeing my name in the magazine—“Sienna Murphy. Fourth Place.” And then I read the title of my photo: “Remembering the Old Ways.”

I look up at Luke, going back and forth excitedly between him and my photograph.

“You deserve it,” he says, smiling. “You deserve first place, but I’ll let this one slide.”

I giggle and look back at the magazine.

“I hope to freelance for them someday,” I tell him, my eyes scanning over the other winning entries.

“Oh, I know you will,” he says with confidence.

I lift my head from the pages long enough for him to kiss me.

He starts to walk away.

I turn another page and my heart stops beating for a moment when I see a photo of Luke taped to the center. He’s holding up a white sheet of printer paper with the words: I want to see your future photos credited to Sienna Everett.

My right hand involuntarily comes up toward my face, my fingers nervously touching my lips, tears welling up in my eyes.

When I look up from the page, Luke is standing there looking back at me with a ring between his fingers.

My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding crazily. One tear rolls down my cheek. Then another.

I walk toward him, the magazine down at my side wedged within my fingers, tears streaming from my eyes.

“Yes …” I run into his arms, wrapping mine about his neck, the magazine lying against his back.

Luke lifts me, and I lock my legs around him.

I feel breathless. “Yes,” I say again and again, looking into his bright face. “Yes, yes, yes,” and I smother him with kisses.

“I really do love you, Sienna,” he says as he slips the ring on my finger with his free hand.

I stare longingly into his eyes.

“I really do love you, too,” I tell him and kiss him passionately.

And this is just the beginning of a beautiful life made by letting go.