“Maybe one.

Your mother saved everything.”

We spent an hour digging through the back of the navy tin and found it tucked in an envelope labeled *summer*.

My mother stood ankle-deep in the water, hair blowing across her forehead, one arm raised in victory.

Lucas stood next to her in a faded work shirt, laughing at whoever was holding the camera.

I stuck the photo on the refrigerator with a strawberry-shaped magnet.

The next morning I saw Lucas stop in front of it, looking half surprised and half embarrassed.