Harvard University

My earliest memory is of the workshop in my father’s picture framing store. For the moment, my father is away. I seize the opportunity to freely explore the room before he returns, noticing a sheet of mirror glass lies on the worktable, waiting to be cut and framed. Quietly, I climb onto it and sit on the mirror. Staring down, I realize my father’s smiling face is visible next to mine in the reflection. Looking back on my life, it feels like his smiling face from that day has never left my side. In 2001, my father sold that store and instead became the landlord of a building, fulfilling a…