For some reason, they'd never quite gotten to the family -- which was an incredible exception. Miguel's face lit up at the mention of his treasured picture, which was beginning to become a little more worn as of late, and he quickly fished it out from his pocket.
The picture was of a young woman, lovely in her laughter, and of an infant in her arms. The baby was dolled up in pink and could be no older than a few months old. In the picture, the young woman was pointing to the camera, and the child had turned her head, following the mother's hand. Both were smiling, wrapped up in each other and the moment.
Miguel looked at the picture in silence a moment, missing them both terribly, and then he held the picture out to Lottie. "Maria," he said, finger pointing to the woman. "Mi esposa." His finger moved to the baby. "Y Dominga, mi hija."