family

Sunday. Backyard. One blow up pool, two sisters, two matching pink ruffle swimsuits I bought on purpose, and Got That Feeling playing off my phone on the porch rail. That is the whole setup. That is all it took.

Yall I did not tell them to dance. I want that on record. I was sitting on the steps minding my business and the song came on and the big one just started. Knees in, arms out, that lil shoulder thing she do. And the baby looked at her for about two seconds, decided she was not gone be left out, and started doing whatever that was with the stuffed pig in her hand. She never put the pig down. Not once. Danced the whole song with a pig.

Judges scores, since somebody gone ask.

Big sister. Ten. She had the moves, she had the face, she knew where the camera was and she used it. Been watching me too long.

Lil sister. Also ten. Less technique, more heart, and a pig. You cannot score against a pig.

Now the sunglasses on the big one. Those are mine. I did not give them to her. I want that on record too.

This right here is why I keep a blow up pool in the yard till October. Aint nothing in it but a foot of water and two inches of grass and it still the best thing we own. Twenty dollars at the store. Every summer they outgrow it and every summer I buy another one.

Got that feeling. Both of them. Every Sunday.

I had a whole day planned. Yall need to understand that. Food, music, catching up with people I aint seen since the last time somebody had a reason to rent a hall. I had an outfit. I had a plate in mind.

Then my auntie walked in with this baby and the day was over.

Not over like bad. Over like nothing else was gone happen. She sat down, handed me the baby, said hold her for a second, and went to fix a plate. That was two hours ago. I have not moved. Auntie ate, talked to everybody in the building, went out to the car and came back, and I am still on this chair with a baby in a red romper looking at me like she trying to figure out where she know me from.

Yall see the video. That face. She dont blink. She dont smile. She just look. Every time I said something to her she looked harder. I told her she was the cutest baby ever and she looked at me like she already knew that and was waiting on new information.

The curls. The cheeks. Them lil feet kicking against my leg the whole time. Somebody tried to take her from me for a picture and she made a sound I had never heard a baby make and they gave her right back. Smart girl. She know who got her.

So no I did not eat. No I did not dance. I held a baby in a hall for two hours and it was the best family day I had all year.

Auntie, bring her back next time. You can stay home.

Happy heavenly birthday Aunt Nita. We love you and we miss you so much.

This is the picture. Yall know which one. Her in the stands, both arms up, water bottle in the air like it was a drink, eyes closed cause the song hit and she did not care who was watching. She never cared who was watching. Thats the thing about her that a picture actually get right.

Look at that dress. Orange, pink, stripes, all of it at once. Nobody else at that show had on that dress and she knew it. And that smile with the eyes shut, that is the face of somebody having the best time in the building and not asking permission for it.

I picked this one over all the others cause this is how I want yall to see her. Not still. Moving. In the middle of something. She was always in the middle of something.

Today we gone do what she would do. Play her song loud. Somebody gone dance in a spot they got no business dancing in. Somebody gone cry in the middle of laughing and thats fine, thats how it go now.

Happy birthday Auntie. Save me a seat up there, near the aisle, so I can get up and dance too.

We love you. We miss you. Every single day.

Me: Keenan.

Him: (nothing)

Me: Keenan. You cant take the tablet to school.

Him: (holds it up higher)

Me: Baby that is not how this work.

Him: (looks at me like I am the one being ridiculous)

Thats the picture. Thats the whole conversation. Tablet in one hand, fruit snacks in the other, Hot Wheels shirt, Hot Wheels shorts, the lil Nikes I told him not to wear in the grass, standing on the sidewalk like he about to board a flight. And that face. Yall see that face? That is not a face that is about to hand over a tablet. That is a face that is about to make me late.

Here go the thing tho. He four. He dont know what school is yet. In his mind he leaving the house, so he packed. Tablet for the ride, snacks for the trip, shoes clean. Thats a whole plan. He put more thought into this morning than some grown men I know put into a whole week.

So I stood there on the sidewalk and had a negotiation with a four year old about a Samsung. I lost the first round. He got in the car with it. I won the second round in the parking lot when I told him the teacher would take it and keep it. He handed it over so fast lul. Mama cant scare him but the teacher can. Noted.

He got his name from his uncle and I can see now he got the nerve too. Pray for me. Its only September.

Throwback. Me and Coco. She wont admit it but I am her favorite and this picture is my evidence, exhibit A, entered into the record.

Things yall need to notice about this picture, in order:

1. Somebody’s mama got us dressed for this. Red jumper, navy jumper, white ruffle collars on both, bows in the hair, the whole coordinated Sears portrait situation. That was not us. That was a grown woman with a plan.
2. The one in the front got her mouth open mid-word. Already talking. Already had something to say before the flash went off. Yall know who that is.
3. The one in the back got the hand on the little one like she holding her in place. Cause she was. Somebody had to.
4. Look at the smiles tho. Both of us. Not a fake picture day smile, a real one. Whatever was said right before that shutter clicked, it was funny, and it was probably her fault.

We took a picture like this last month. Same pose. Her behind me with the hand out like I might run. Me in the front talking. Thirty something years and the roles aint changed one bit. She the one holding it together and I am the one making noise, and we both know which one of us is the favorite.

Its me. Coco, dont comment. You know its me.

Love you sis.

Thad Hagan. My brother. Its ya birthday and I am coming to take shots. Not asking. Telling. Lock the door if you want, I know where the spare key at.

Now look at this picture cause this is the one I am putting up every year till one of us drop. Matching shirts. Sundays Are For The G’s. Him in the backwards cap doing the lil point at the chest like he came up with the shirt himself. Me in the red bucket hat, red shoes, cause if we gone match I am gone win it. Whole stadium behind us, cocktails tent, strangers walking through the shot, and we still ended up with the best picture in the parking lot that day.

Thats how it be with him tho. Loud, matching, in the middle of everything. You dont go to a game with Thad and stand in the back. You go to a game with Thad and by the third quarter he done made friends with a whole section and somebody name Dave is calling him bro.

So happy birthday my boy. Get the cups out. I am bringing the bottle, you bringing the excuse for why you cant hang no more, and we gone see who right by midnight.

Love you. Now answer ya phone.

Yall know I don’t buy the park picture. Twenty five dollars for a photo I could take myself? Aht aht. I been saying that for years.

I bought the park picture.

Look at it. Look at it and tell me I was wrong. All of us under the sign, the whole crew, the fountain behind us and every single face doing something different. Thats why I paid. You cant get all of them looking at the camera at the same time, so you pay a stranger to try and even he couldnt do it and thats what make it perfect.

Left to right cause yall gone ask. The baby on my hip already done with the day and it was 11 in the morning. Me in the pink pants that I will defend to my grave. Big girl in the glasses and the pink shorts trying to look calm. The one in the red throwing up the peace signs cause she cannot take a picture without her hands doing something. Lil man in the front with the pink skirt and the one finger up like she got a point to make. My son in the white tank looking exactly like his daddy next to him, same face, same stance, same “hurry up” energy. And Jimmy in the red trunks holding everybody together on that end.

We rode everything the tall ones could ride and the lil ones waited with me and a funnel cake. Somebody cried. Somebody lost a shoe in the wave pool, found it, lost it again. Somebody fell asleep in the stroller and got carried to the car like luggage.

Thats it. Thats the memory. I aint gone dress it up. Best twenty five dollars I spent all summer.