blast from the past
During my last trip back to my parents house I found the 1971 picture of me and it reminded me of a more recent photograph of me from this year. I couldn’t resist putting them back to back to see how they compare.
In the kindergarten photo, I remember that the photographer gave me my first comb ever which was thrilling since we only had brushes at home. I combed my braids and smiled for the photographer. I didn’t know that I did anything wrong until my mother saw the print and asked me what happened to my braids.
Somehow it is reassuring for me to see that even though I have physically aged and even experienced good times and bad there is a little indiscernable spark of me still safely embedded.
