Six Years Old, Family Photo

I doubt my cheeks hurt from smiling,

my hands resting gently atop

my mother’s outstretched palm. 

My sister, tall, behind me.

Me, bright-eyed, in my favorite navy corduroy jumper, 

sweet red strawberries dancing

across white cotton feathery cap sleeves 

tugged over my crisp white turtleneck and white tights. 

Our clothes, layered, 

my mother leaning ever toward us,

her daughters. Her pride.

Now fifty, peering closer to the picture leaves me breathless.

I see my mom’s other hand, 

wrapped around my tiny self and my heart swells

knowing the reason for my content smile.