My first grade picture, at age 6, is my favorite.

I don't know if it's the innocent face with the lop-sided bangs, cut by my very young mother.

I don't know if it's because I remember my grandmother giving me her necklace to wear for the picture.

I don't know if it's because I still remember that day, so clearly. What about that day, at age 6, was so special? I don't know, but I remember how that yellow wool jumper felt. I remember the new white lace ankle socks with the black patent leather shoes.

Maybe I just felt loved that day...