In case you haven’t heard, we’re moving (to the Nora Ephron apartment, by the way). I’ve been fighting the temptation to throw everything in the back of the car and call it packed and so I’ve been digging through drawers and emptying shelves in an effort to consolidate things. And I ran across this picture. I have no idea when it was taken, although my mom thinks I was about two years old. Every time I started to pack it away with the rest of the photo albums, I kept pulling it out and staring at it.
I kinda love this picture. Somehow, I guess I think that everything that is essentially me is in this picture. The girl in the picture is serious but maybe kind of hopeful, too. And I guess I feel that way a lot. Serious and hopeful. The girl in the picture has no idea what’s going to happen in the next 23 years. Or maybe she does. She kind of looks like she might. I find this photograph comforting. Like maybe if we’re essentially who we are when we were little, we’re not that far away from our real selves. I find it reassuring to recognize myself in her.