This story is part of the September 14 edition of Sunday Life. See all 13 stories .

I’d done it again: accidentally flipped my phone to selfie mode instead of capturing the paragraph I wanted to save from the book I was reading. I scramble to hit the “reverse camera” button, but the damage – the damage – is done.

The face staring back at me isn’t mine. It’s my mother’s.

Lately, it’s becoming a habit. One unguarded moment is all it takes: in front of the bathroom mirror. Passing a shop window. Mid-Zoom call – before I can arrange my features into a smile.

And there it is. That severe downturn of the lips. The distracted gaze. A brow pressed – like by a thumb – into a triangle of sadness. Add the grey I’ve stopped disguising and the shorter cut I’ve chosen for convenience and ease

See Full Page