I met Bob at the Schomburg in Harlem. He was photographing for an event. I was looking for the restroom. The second time I passed him, he said to me, “You look just like your mom”.

Really? And who is my mom?

What you mean, who is your mom?

You know my mom?

Yes, doesn’t she lead the student organization over at the-

No. 

I didn’t want to tell him my mom was indeed in heaven. He looked at me blankly.

Aren’t you from Eritrea?

No. I get that all the time. But I’m not. 

You’re not the high school student whose mom leads the organization for high school students?

No, as a matter of fact, I’ve been out of high school for over 15 years.

Wow! You look just like her daughter!

He couldn’t stop looking at me. I thought the entire situation was kinda funny. When I told my friend, Kieara what happened, she responded, sometimes, when you have moments like that, it’s just to remind you about your mom and how often she would think of you. 

Which I would love to always remember. I told her about the time the little boy in preschool, whom I never saw before, said to me.

Wow! You look just like your mom!

Really, little boy?

Yes.

And where is my mom?

You look just like her!

He never told me where my mom was. He just kept telling me I looked like her.