A Letter to Lily

Late August Light: A Jersey City Rooftop Birthday Story

Dear Lily,

You turned one beneath the late August sun,

high on a Jersey City rooftop.

Midday—when many fear the harshness of light—

gave us instead gentle shadows, soft covers,

a city wrapped in brightness and shade.

Your mother, Evelyn, is the photographer herself.

The walls around you were already filled with her images,

your first year captured with tenderness,

each photograph another fragment of your story.

You know the camera well—hers has been your companion since birth.

And you were not alone that day.

Around you stood your family—parents, grandparents,

dear friends who had come to celebrate.

Their laughter rose into the summer air,

their joy circled you like a quiet hymn.

And yet, on this day, your mom asked me to join.

To add my eye to her archive,

to become part of the tapestry she has begun.

For me, it was a quiet honor—

to be trusted with the memories of a family

who already speaks the language of images.

So here you are, Lily—

precious and luminous—

your first birthday suspended between film and digital,

between your mother’s gaze and mine,

between shadow and light.

With gratitude,

Maria