Her hands, myself

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.

Comments

[Hilary]

This is really beautiful. I see my Mom's nose all the time now. And of course the way she speaks. This is one of the best posts I have read ever. Thanks.

[FishyGirl]

I wonder if I have a different perspective because I lost my mother so long ago. I tend to see a stranger, even though I know I came from my parents. I see my dad, but not my mother, even though I have her eyes, her nose, her smile. I think it's because she's been gone so long that my memories of her are fading. On the other side, though, I see me in my kids, I see BigDaddyFish in them, too, especially Trout.

Either way, though, great post, S. One of your best.

[becky]

I sometimes hear myself say something, pause, and realize I sounded exactly like my mom. Or a look just "feels" like my mom's. It's weird, makes me stop for a moment. But it's cool, too.

[Penne]

Thanks for making me take the time to appreciate this. I have my father's hands, with my mother's twisted index fingers, and my paternal grandmother's age spots. I hide them and don't wear jewelry because I don't want to call attention to them. (They are quite handsome on my dad, though!) Anyway, I'll take the time to appreciate the heritage I have with me everyday.

[Jessica @ A Bushel and a Peck]

It is magical. I know I have my mother's mannerisms and attitudes about so much. I actually can't wait to see how much of me is in my own children when they get older.

[Wife and Mommy]

I also have my mother's hands...and her mother's hands too.

[lacochran]

I have my mother's hands, too. (She keeps asking for them back.)