I send a link to Mike so he can see his diner in all its glory, and if he wants to, follow the comments. I tagged the restaurant in the post too, so hopefully, it’ll help boost his business. Not that he needs it, judging by the line of people who were waiting to get in by the time India and I left, but publicity is always good.
I pull a few images that are close-ups of my face, highlighting the cat-eye eyeliner and ruby red lipstick I’d gone with for the shoot, and send them to my contact at Joroast. They’re tagged in the album too, but I want to make sure they see what their investment in me is netting them.
And though we’ve talked back and forth a few times since the shoot to go over the photos, I send India another email to thank her for the amazing experience and beautiful work.
All told, this single post has hours and hours of work involved in it before I hit the submission button, and I’m not even the photographer. I know India also has hours of editing work in the photos. Our work might be different, but nothing online is spontaneously recorded and posted anymore. There’s so much that goes into it behind the scenes, even when it looks quick and easy.
I spin in my chair, stretching my arms overhead and wiggling them in the air to get some of the tension out. I have a video conference in thirty minutes, and I’ve been hunched over my computer since eight AM.
Raffy barks, and I eye the clock, deciding I have time to run him downstairs for a potty break before my call.
“Come on, boy. But you’ll have to be fast. No sniffing the whole block when we both know exactly where you’re going to pee, ’kay?”
Raffy sticks his nose in the air and twitches his mustache as he struts to the door. I choose to take that as his agreement to my negotiation.
Outside, I’m standing by Raffy’s tree, my back turned so he’ll do his business, when I hear my name.
“Riley! Oh, my gosh! Hey, girl,” a female voice calls.
I turn toward the voice but don’t see anyone I know. But there’s a young woman waving at me wildly. Her black hair is in matching long braids, her dark eyes rimmed in black liner, and her smile is glistening with gloss. I look to her outfit for a clue, but it’s some type of uniform, white pants and a white polo shirt. I have no idea who she is.
“Hi,” I say hesitantly. “Sorry, do I know you?”
She laughs and shakes her head as though I said something funny. “No, I guess I just feel like I know you. I follow you online.”
“Oh! Well . . . hi!” I give her one of my Sunshine Salutes, my fingers wiggling below my chin as I smile warmly. “What’s your name?”
“Myra,” she answers, saluting me back.
I grin. I guess I never thought about other people doing the silly move that always makes me smile. I wonder if they do it back to their screens when I wave in videos?
“Nice to meet you, Myra. Are you having a good day?”
“I am now,” she jokes, looking a little starstruck. Going serious on me, she adds, “Really, though, it’s been tough lately, and when I saw you, I felt like it was a sign. The universe is giving me a chance to tell you how much you mean to me.” Her tone is earnest, her eyes sincere, and I can’t help but feel for her. She’s smiling through pain, that much is clear to see. “Yeah, my guy ghosted, left me with a baby and the bills. And I didn’t have a job.”
“Oh, my gosh, Myra! I’m so sorry!” I hold my hands over my heart as it breaks for her.
“It’s okay. I almost tracked that no-good man down and made him sorry he ever met me. But I’m a good woman.” She looks to the sky like she’s apologizing for even having the mean thought. “So I took your advice instead. Even in our darkest days, we can find joy, grow happiness, and share sunshine,” she quotes me. “And it worked!” Her smile is wide and bright, no trace of the difficulties she’s been through.
“What happened?” I ask. If I were sitting down, I’d be on the edge of my seat. Since I’m standing on the sidewalk, I’m dancing from foot to foot in excitement, much like Raffy, who’s ready to go inside and get a treat now that he’s done with his potty business.
“I’m not good at much, but what I can do is bake. So I decided to spread a little sunshine myself. My baby’s six, and he’s got some real good teachers, gonna help make something of him. I baked every one of those teachers a little cake to say thank you for all they do for him. They weren’t fancy, but they were tasty. And you won’t believe it . . .” She pauses dramatically. “One of those teachers has a son who’s a baker. She told me that as soon as she took a bite of my cake, she knew it was something special. She wrapped that bit of cake up, took it to her son when school got out, and made him eat it. And he offered me a job! He’s training me to be a baker now too!”
Her joy is infectious, her energy buzzing with happiness, and her pride is well-earned.
Happy tears spring to my eyes, pouring down my face even as I smile. “That is amazing, Myra! I am so thrilled for you.”
“Me too, Riley. Me too. And all because of you. If I hadn’t heard you say ‘spread sunshine’ over and over, I wouldn’t have thought to make cakes for those teachers. I was barely holding my own head above water, to be honest. But I spread the sunshine, and then somebody gave me some of theirs to brighten my whole life.” Myra throws her arms out wide.
“Thank you for sharing that. You brought some sunshine to my day too.”
Myra laughs like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Me bring Riley Sunshine herself some sunshine? Pshaw, you don’t need it, girl. You’ve always had plenty, and you’ve got even more now. I saw that man of yours. Fine piece of . . . cake.”
“Yes, he is,” I agree. My phone dings, and I look at the time. “Oh, I’m sorry, Myra. I have to go. I have a meeting in five minutes.”
“No worries. I need to get to work, anyway. I only took this way because I was a little early and wanted to enjoy the beautiful day. It’s like I was meant to run into you,” she says with a smile.
She waves goodbye, a regular wave this time, and continues down the sidewalk.
“Raffy, did you hear that? Mama helped Myra, and she’s doing awesome now.” I’m filled with joy for her and for myself because Myra is a perfect example of the power of the work I’m doing.
Spread sunshine.
It seems like a little thing, but it can mean so much and change someone’s life in ways they never expect.
Back inside, I give Raffy a treat, and he promptly lies down, eyeing me because I told him to hurry and then spent several minutes talking to Myra. But I log in to my conference call just in time.
“Hi, Riley!” the woman says as the video connects.
And it’s back to work . . . making the world a better place.
Fifteen minutes later, Sharon wraps up her pitch.
“So, Riley, what do you say?”
I lean back in my chair, taking a moment to consider. “One hundred percent organic beeswax mood candles that are scented with real extracts sound interesting. What exactly are you hoping to achieve from this partnership?“
“Riley Sunshine is the sort of positive, uplifting energy that we’re targeting because we’re certain your audience and ours overlap enough to forge a new relationship,” Sharon says. She’s technically the company’s president, but I suspect they wear many hats at Positive Vibe Candles. “We’d expect three sponsored photos per month for six consecutive months, with the candle being the primary photo focus in at least one of those monthly shots. And you’d have a private link and code to share for your followers.”