The Road Home by Michael Thomas Ford

brought them to the porch, where Burke met him and signed for them. His father then carried them into the dining room, where he set them on the table. “What’s all this?” he asked.
    â€œPhotography stuff,” Burke answered as he opened the box from Gregg. He had stayed on the phone with Gregg while his friend packed the box, telling him everything to include in the shipment, but he still went over everything again. It was all there.
    â€œCan you take this stuff upstairs for me, Dad?” Burke asked after checking the packing list from the second box and matching it to the contents.
    â€œWhat are you doing? Setting up shop?” his father said.
    â€œI’m just going to develop some film,” Burke explained as he followed behind. He had gotten good at managing the stairs and now went up and down several times a day.
    â€œDon’t you need a darkroom for that?”
    â€œI’ve got one,” Burke told him.
    His father set the first box down on the bed. “You do?” he said doubtfully.
    Burke reached into the box and pulled out a black cloth bag that appeared to have two arms sewn onto it. “Right here,” he said. “You want to see how it’s done?”
    â€œI do,” his father said, sounding genuinely interested.
    â€œBring up the second box,” Burke instructed him. “I’ll get everything ready.”
    As his father went to fetch the other box, Burke unpacked the contents of the first box. Most of it was taken up with the photo scanner he’d asked Gregg to send him. He set this aside for later use and concentrated on the project at hand. By the time his father returned, Burke had laid out on the bed a pair of scissors, a metal film reel, and what looked like an oversize martini shaker.
    â€œLooks like you’re going to perform surgery,” his father remarked as he put the second box on the floor.
    â€œThis is more fun,” said Burke. He took a roll of exposed film and placed it inside the black bag along with everything else he’d set out. Then he sealed the bag and stuck his hands into the arms on either side. “This is a changing bag,” he explained. “You use it for changing film when there’s nowhere dark to do it. But you can also use it as a darkroom.” He felt for the roll of film and held it with one hand while he released the bit of tape holding the end closed. This he trimmed away with the scissors.
    â€œI’m spooling the film onto the reel,” he told his father as he threaded the end of the film into the receiving slot on the reel. When it was secure, he turned the reel forward and back, working the film onto it. He was careful to hold the film by the sides so as not to touch its surface. “That shaker thing is called a developing tank,” he said as he took the tank and placed the film reel inside. He placed the top on it and screwed it down tight. When he was sure it was secure, he pulled his hands free and opened the bag, removing the developing tank. “Now, this becomes our darkroom,” he told his father.
    â€œThat?” his father said dubiously. “It’s a can.”
    â€œBasically, yes,” Burke admitted. “It’s what you put in the can that makes a difference.”
    â€œI’m guessing that’s what’s in this box here.”
    â€œRight,” said Burke. “You can watch if you want to, but it’s basically a lot of pouring, turning, and more pouring. It might be easier if you come back for the fun part.”
    â€œCall me when it’s done,” his father said. “And try not to blow anything up.”
    â€œAll the chemicals are harmless, Dad,” Burke assured him. “Oh, would you mind putting that box in the bathroom for me?” In the excitement of developing the film, he’d forgotten all about his leg.
    After depositing the box on the lid of the toilet seat, Burke’s father left.