a few days later.
My mother and I were out walking one evening.
I was several steps ahead of her when I heard her call out.
“Turn around.”
I turned.
Before I had time to react, she took a picture.
“Mom, why didn’t you warn me?”
“So you wouldn’t have time to prepare.”
I took the phone from her.
Years earlier, I wouldn’t even have kept a picture like that.
But this time, I stared at it.
My hair was messy from the wind.
My posture wasn’t perfect.
The lighting wasn’t especially flattering.
But I was smiling.
And most importantly, when I looked at the picture, I didn’t immediately start searching for something I disliked.
“Send it to me,” I said.
My mother looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What do you like about it so much?”
I looked at the photo again.
And in that moment, I finally understood what had