(For the fam—those with us and not, living and not—with love and gratitude.)

Back in the day it was my mother
who, with her trusty Kodak, shot
the family pix for every Christmas

card—my sister and I posing in
some location she liked—until we
reached high school and began

directing our own photo shoots.
Then I picked up a camera
thanks to the boyfriend who

sold them at K-Mart in town,
and learned darkrooms
and newsrooms from college

to a major daily, later editing
photos for a magazine.
Not to mention picking up

a couple of nice photo guys
along the way. One of them
took our family photo today

on a carpet of fallen leaves,
our Thanksgiving meal waiting
to be served because the light

was finally right. And just
before that, the niece born
on my 29th birthday, now a

photography teacher, took
what she calls a cousin selfie,
a chunk of our fam together

in one place for a snapshot
of a moment—one of us
nearing the end, one of us

carrying new life due in
the spring, not to mention
so many departed loved ones

cramming into the frame,
no one knowing what’s
coming—but nonetheless

capturing this instant,
this precious now, which
poof! with the electronic

click of a simulated shutter,
grateful smiles all around,
is here and gone.