Really Expensive Photos

I have a cousin that keeps the most aesthetically pleasing house I have ever visited. Tasteful little Welcome matts are at the doors, the furniture is artfully arranged, the counters are adorned with silk flowers, and candles warm the rooms with wonderful scents. It is the polar opposite of my own home, which happens to be decorated by the world’s most aesthetically challenged woman.

Upon entering my home, one immediately trips and falls into my washroom, a melee of dirty clothes, mountains of ironing, cleaning products, and things in there because I don’t know where else to put them. After hours of untangling oneself from the washroom, one would then enter my kitchen to backpacks, undone homework, and books that I intend on reading sometime this century. Then on to the living room to the 27 TV and cable box flickers, to be seated on a couch that has to be reclaimed from my cats. The wonderful scents are usually the open bag of Cheetos that someone left on the coffee table.

But my cousin and I share one thing in common. We both love photos. Although her’s are beautifully arranged and posed, and I hang candid shots haphazardly around each room, I have thousands of pictures of the people I love. I would love the beautiful poses, too, but I tend to not want to spend hundreds of dollars for an image of the same child that I can hang on the wall for 25 cents spent at Walgreen’s.

So when my son had his photo taken for a school organization, I, naturally, wanted to have one. Periodically I can hunker down and pay a few dollars for a really nice photo.

I called the number and told the woman that I wanted to buy a photo. I was secretly thinking that maybe I would spring for as much as 25 or 30 dollars. I knew my Walgreen’s cheapskate option wasn’t possible. The woman with the very sweet voice told me she would set me an appointment to view the photo.

Telling her I didn’t really need to come in and view it, I would just like to buy a photo. She told me sweetly, I would have to come view it first. I sighed and sweetly set my appointment.

The following week I drove to the store and entered the lobby at my appointment time. It was a nice lobby with lots of wood. It smelled like lemon oil. This didn’t bode well for my $25 photo. Maybe I would have to spend fifty. But it would have to be a really nice photo. The sweet voiced woman said to have a seat and projected my son’s image on the wall.

It was a very nice photo. I really wanted it. I think she knew that.

Sitting me down, she spread some pamphlets in front of me and said I could buy a package. For $200. After I finished choking, I told her I really just wanted one photo. A very small one. Like for maybe $25.
Her smile got wider and sweeter and she told me I couldn’t have one photo. This was very special. My son would be forever immortalized at this moment to hang on my wall. I knew that I had loved my son for 17 years and suspected I would love him next year too. Suppose I wanted to forever immortalize him last year...Or next year....And nothing would ever replace that spot on the wall where the beloved crayon colored alligator picture was hanging that he made for me in the second grade. That was truly immortalized. And it cost about 12 cents.

She smiled sweetly and tapped the $200. Frowning suspiciously I asked if I bought this would I maybe get something with it? Like some steak knives? An umbrella? A trip to Bermuda? She shook her head and studied her fingernails.

I looked up at the beautiful picture of my son and sighed. One must maintain one’s photographic principals. And one’s hard earned dollars. I picked up my purse, waved at sweetly smiling woman, and headed home without my photo.
As I entered my home and breathed in the familiar scent of Tide and re-heated pizza, I knew my home would never be as beautiful as my cousin’s. But walking to the wall and looking at the green, scribbled alligator, I knew no other picture could ever be as beautiful as this.