#55to55, day 2
My first official passport photo. I was eight, heading to Costa Rica for the Christmas holidays with my aunt and her family.
But my aunt wasn’t just my aunt; she was my second mom, Mami Marie. What started as babysitting when my parents, both healthcare workers, had long shifts became a full-time arrangement. My uncle, Papa Chalie, soft-hearted as he was, couldn’t bear to wake me after my mom’s evening shifts. ‘Let her stay; she’s already asleep,’ he’d say. And so, I stayed.
At some point, my life shifted. I lived with my aunt and visited my parents. At my aunt’s, I was the youngest—the one spoiled and doted on. At my parents’, I was the eldest—the one setting the tone and paving the way. It was (for a while) a life lived in two rhythms, two homes, with two sets of parents.
Looking back, it gave me a unique perspective on family. The best of both worlds? Perhaps. But also the bittersweet task of finding your place in two worlds at once.
By the way, I’m picking these photos randomly—there’s no particular logic to the order. And what I share is just the first thing that comes to mind when I see the picture. It’s as much
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