Pinned underneath Rowdy’s palm was another goddamn photo. This one was a grainy polaroid of a baby that looked an awful lot like…me. It…was me—unless I had a twin I didn’t know about. My parents had enough baby photos of me hanging around the house that it was impossible for me to mistake the newborn in the photo for anyone else. It occurred to me then that the earliest photo my parents had of me was when I was maybe three or four months. I couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old here.
