Tussled hair, chapped lips, rough skin, haunting eyes, dark light. The story of two boys who want nothing more than to frolic about.
The delicate flash before they notice the camera, and their true spirit turns to fraudulent smile.
My boys. My Jackson, my Noah.
These are two of my favorite photographs of my children.
Intimate. Real. Soulful.
These are flashes of moments I don’t really ever see.
Maybe because I’m too blinded by own scolding self.
The “stop playing in the curtains,”
The “get your shirt on before Grandma gets here,” moments.
I want to keep them like this for eternity.
And much to my dismay, that isn’t possible.
They will grow. Taller. Emotionally. Away from me. Into their own family.
“I’m yours forever. And your mine, Mommy,” Jackson coos to me.
If only.