My father and me

Growing up, I was always told I look just like my father.

And I did. And I do. As a baby, I certainly did.

And now, growing older, I recognize my eyes in him when I stare into the mirror. And my nose. Yesterday I was told I have his mouth.

Whenever he smiled and now when I smile, there is a pucker of skin around my upper left hand smile that we both share. Not surprising. After all, I am his daughter.

He died way too young. In another 12 or 13 years I will have outlived him.

I often wonder what he would think of his children now. My sister. My brother. And me.

Certainly proud of us all. Each of us are living out an element of one of his dreams. And. I believe even though he's no longer alive, he is aware of our accomplishments. I truly believe that.

I tried to pose myself in the same position of my father's photo. I think my ears are flatter. My mom prayed we'd have flat ears. I never heard of that. Mothers praying for their children to have flat ears. (Or maybe she prayed He would spare us from bony legs. In both cases, God granted her wish). I can't even carry a pencil behind it. I have tried. Once I crammed it behind there... and then gave it a few seconds and it automatically popped up and vaulted across the room like a rocket ship.

Well. Even though I may look like my father, I am not my father. I actually have the personality of my mother. But still, I am completely me. And today, I'm off to make the most of it. I will make choices that add enjoyment and goodness to my life the best way I know how.

Wishing you all a wonderful day, too.