Trenton, NJ, circa 1975: The woman standing is my mom, the one sitting is her mom, my grandmom. They are in grandmom's living room on Home Avenue. I always liked the name of where she lived. Home Avenue. It sounds like someplace that you'd want to be. Someplace filled with goodness and light. Someplace safe. Someplace where there might be something strange, like a pair of chicken feet, boiling in a big pot of water on the stove. A good place in a neighborhood filled with cousins and aunts and uncles and the people who knew them. A place that was instantly familiar. A good place to be in the Summer, say, of 1962. Or 1963. Or 1964. In 1975 I knew that if I were going to take a picture of these two women together, I had better not wait any longer. Mom died the year after this. Gran died the year after that.

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