I got it right. I know it in an instant. She looks different—much, much older than I remember—but all the familiar features are still there. “Mom?” I say. For a moment, my mother just stands there, her face blank. She studies my own face, like this might be a joke, and then—there it is. Recognition flares in her eyes. She covers her mouth with her hands, her eyes welling up. “Miriam?” I draw in what feels like my first breath. I nod, blinking back my own tears. I’ve waited so long for this. Can’t believe it’s happening. “It’s me,” I say, my voice shaky. She lets out a sob, then opens her arms
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