I was on my way to the Lake County Fair when my first cousin, Jerry, texted me this picture.

“Do you know this little guy?” he asked.

“Is it you?” I replied, having not seen this picture before.

“No, it’s you! Look at the ears. Probably taken during your 1st communion.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” I hesitatingly replied as we both signed off.

Now piqued about the real identity of the boy holding a candle, I drove my car to the nearest parking lot.

Once parked, I looked at the picture more closely.

Somehow the scrutiny became surreal. It was like the septuagenarian me trying to relate to a boy, frozen in time in a black and white picture.

“Am I you? Are you me?” I asked, somehow expecting a response.

With knitted brows, I pulled the picture to my face for closer inspection.

Wide-eyed, I traced every inch of the figure in the black and white picture.

A full crop of hair with two unswept locks on forehead; a pair of I-know-something eyes; faint upturned nose; slightly curled lips; flaring ears; firmly-set jaws; the almost squared-off shoulders; right hand firmly holding a slanted lit candle and the other, open and relaxed; long-sleeved, buttoned-down white shirt; a ribbon tied around the upper left arm; below-the-waist white pair of long pants; a peeking white sock; and a pair of slip-on shoes.

And then I pulled my head back for a full view of the boy holding a candle in the black and white picture.

I stopped breathing.

“OMG! It is indeed me!” I yelled. “Yes, I am you! You are me!” waving the picture triumphantly.

I was so elated since I made a connection with the boy that I once was. The inexplicable fusion of the innocent youth and the seasoned me created a sudden jolt of energy. I took a deep breath as I embraced the experience.

Grinning, I left the parking lot to explore what the Fair had in store.

“I wonder whether he has an idea of what his future will be?” I mused, as my car merged with the traffic.