Between Two Photos

Chaque, my mother, born and raised in Cairo, immigrated to France in 1955 to be with my father who she met while he was working in Cairo. In the early 60’s, we moved to New York. Within a few years all of my mom’s five siblings immigrated to either Montreal, Toronto, or New York. Except for one, Yervant. He, his wife Suzanne, along with their children Stephan and Lina moved to Sao Paulo, Brazil. Because they were so far away, Stephan and Lina were lost cousins. In a pre-social media world, it was nearly impossible to develop and maintain a relationship. 

Before they all left Cairo, my mom and I visited her family for a couple of months. I was just two years old so I don’t remember any of it. There is one item of that 1959 visit that has always been an heirloom. It is a 2x3 inch black and white photo with a white serrated border of two little girls sitting on the grass, big white bows atop their heads. It is of me and Lina, both of us two years old. But that photo is more than an image. For me, it’s a bridge to the past, a testament to family, and to shared history.

Years passed. Lives were lived. Then in June of 2012 I received a Facebook message from a Jacqueline Vieira de Souza. My cousin! From Sao Paulo! I was thrilled! I had been trying to locate her for years using the name I knew her by, Lina Hairabedian to no avail. Using Google Translate, we messaged each other for the next 12 years. We caught up on family, politics, likes, dislikes, TV shows, and lots more, 55 years more.

In 2024, the possibility to travel to Sao Paulo presented itself. It was a chance to see each other and rediscover a long-lost part of my family. It was a chance to connect and rekindle a relationship. But perhaps it was too late. Maybe time has stolen that from us. The thought of seeing her again after 65 years was both exciting and emotional. Thoughts raced through my mind. How would we communicate? Are we alike? What if we didn’t like each other? Would three nights in her home be too long? 

Finally, the day arrived and we landed in Sao Paulo. Lina, along with her husband Jarbas, were picking us up at the airport. I exited through the baggage claim doors and there seemed to be hundreds of eyes fixated on us as they looked for family and friends. I saw recent pictures of Lina on Facebook, so I used my internal facial recognition app as I scanned faces. There she was! The girl in the photo, much taller and a bit older. We smiled. We hugged. We cried. We held hands. Communication was tricky but there was an immediate connection, even if unspoken. 

The next day we met her two sons, their wives, and her two young grandchildren for lunch to celebrate Lina’s birthday. The lunch was great. The company…fabulous! Turns out her son and his wife, Marcelo and Carina, speak perfect English. Carina took a couple of days off from work. That made communication easier although Lina and I were doing well intermingling Portuguese, Spanish, English, French, and Arabic. We walked around the downtown area, played a Toy Story board game with Lina’s grandson, Theo. He won! We ate local cuisine, as well as Lina’s homemade Kobeba, one of my favorite Egyptian dishes. I have made it several times but Michael now knows what it is supposed to taste like. We went shopping in the Ladeira Porto Geral area - known to locals as the place you can buy anything including a kidney. We yelled at a restaurant owner who Lina thought was trying to rip us off. And we bought white bows. Within a couple of days Michael noted there was no denying there was shared DNA. We have the same mannerisms, the same facial expressions, the same eye roll. 

The day before we left, we were on a mission. Grabbing our bows, we made our way to a park. Finally, after a 20 minute hunt, we found the perfect spot. We sat down on the grass, placed the bows on our heads, and channeled our two year old selves. 

Recreating this childhood photo reminded me of the passage of time. I was grateful for the moment gained and sad about the time lost along the way. It was a joyful and playful experience filled with a celebration of joy, laughter, and togetherness, reminding us that, despite the complexities of adulthood, a childlike sense of wonder and spontaneity can still be part of our lives. The years apart may have created a distance, but the photo shows that a family bond, frozen in time, is still there, a reminder that relationships can be created and rediscovered.

When it came time to leave Sao Paulo, Lina asked why we only stayed three nights. I replied, “I didn’t know we would like each other.”  We are both so grateful for that gift. Although saying goodbye was difficult, there was a sense of safety and warmth knowing we were no longer lost cousins, the bond is there to stay however far apart life may have taken us. Now we are not simply family, we are friends.