My mother looks unbelievably young, and I look even more poorly dressed than usual.

Another photograph of my mother that I’d never seen before has surfaced. 

Mom has been gone for seven years now, but these photos, sent by various members of my family, are like unexpected, all too brief visits from her.

Wonderful and heartbreaking. 

This is a version of my mother that I don’t remember at all. An even younger version than the one I remember from my childhood.

When I first saw the photograph, I didn’t even see my mother. I stared at the little boy who she was holding, who looks like a poorly dressed version of my son.

“Who’s holding Charlie?” I thought. “And what the hell is he wearing?”

Can you blame me?