Nothing about this photo was planned. It was a regular Sunday: my mother's pot roast, my grandson's elbows on the table, everybody talking over everybody. My daughter snapped it on her phone between courses, and it is now the most-viewed picture in my camera roll by a mile. My mom passed the next spring. This is the photo I return to, because it is not a special occasion wearing its best clothes. It is just us, being us, on an ordinary Sunday. Protect those. They turn out to be the treasures.
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