Sometimes I catch a sideways glimpse of myself in the mirror and I see it.
Sometime I can actually feel that an expression I am making is the same as that of my mother.
One night recently, while taking a much needed and seriously over-due shower, I looked down at my hands, and noticed that they are my mother's hands.
As I get older I notice parts of my parents selves within myself. Sometimes it is scary. Sometimes it is endearing. It gives me pause to realize who I am and actually see a link between myself and the last generation. I feel a richness of character, a sense of myself as a person who has come a long way, down a winding path and still has more brush to clear before she finds her summit.
It isn't just the appearance of my veins or the shape of my fingernails, or the way my hands chap and my thumb splits in the wintertime in the exact same way as my mother's hand does, it is deeper than skin. I am a part of my parents. Their best features rolled and wrapped into one body. Her desire to help others, his ability to think clearly, be rational, fix anything, her ability to sew and speak to animals. I don't admire every trait in my parents, after all, they are human and by definition, have faults. Iknow that I am the person I am because of them.
Sometimes when I watch Noah play I wonder what parts of me he will take with him and what parts he'll see as less than ideal. This... feeling of being suspended between generations, seeing my own genes being shaped again, it's like a second chance to better myself and sand off the shaper edges of my faults because I know that one day there is someone who will know them better than I do.
Sometimes this parenting thing feels kind of magical.