Last weekend, The New York Times published an article called Our Mothers as We Never Saw Them. It was a beautiful essay describing how often times, seeing photos of our mothers before having children provides a snapshot into a personality we never knew. A carefree, life before firstborns, unbridled with responsibility, bursting with character and endless possibilities, kinda life.
It was a beautiful essay, but it's not the story I know. While I do recall seeing a picture of my cute teenage mother in a bikini standing by the kitchen sink at some point in my life, boxes of vintage-colored square photographs with the date in the corner don't exist. Instead, pictures of a young mother holding a little blonde baby came sooner than expected. Endless possibilities became endless diaper changes. Unbridled opportunities became a young mother to three and then six and then grandmother to thirteen.
While I know it doesn't make up for the lost time as a young woman in early eighties snapshots, thank you for trusting me to capture you as I see you now: strong, beautiful, bursting with character and endless possibilities.
