They were like this when I found them–my mom and my daughter–hunkered together on the living room floor.
Snickering through history.
One family photo album at a time.
They opened to a page of my sister’s life. The homemade sweater in preschool had never looked more…homemade.
But it was the bangs…the bangs snipped by our own mother straight across my sister’s forehead and as high as the ceiling that had shaped her face like a box.
Wait. I had those too.
I pointed to another picture of my sister and laughed. These were too good.
Which was when my daughter-still on the floor–blurted, “you should see the ones of you.”
*My younger sister and Me (R-L) circa 1979