Captured moments like familiar freckles on my face, record an afternoon outdoors upon my skin, sustaining me as the faces of my babies sprint, wisps to locks and dimples fade to smooth, left in the wake the sinew of walking legs, the facial hollows of young women. A few weeks ago I had one such moment with Briar. Recalling it now through the triggers in this photo, I am at once broken and whole. Embracing in the splintered shadows of a spinning fan, the scent of scallions from the market hover in the air, a flash of sunlight through carefully chosen wild flowers, a variegated leaf, green, then white, then green, “Stripes,” you say. Your sweaty ringlets, still pressed to your drowsy, post-nap face,…