Carbon Copy

Everyone kept telling me I look like you. I didn’t see it. I tried but honestly I saw very little resemblence between us. Perhaps I didn’t want to see it. Maybe I was holding out for the possibility that there had been some sort of mistake as you had suggested. I mean there is the picture of my aunt whom I look very much like but that could have just been a coincidence right?

Maybe I was holding out for that chance that a mistake had been made and I would learn one of the kind hearted birth moms I know was really my mother. One of the mothers that longs deeply for a connection with their daughters. One that would give anything for a quiet hand-in-hand walk on the beach. One that would embrace the gift of a second chance. Instead I got you. Yes, a mistake. That must be it.

Last night I happened to look on the fridge where I have a recent picture of J and I. It was taken right after I had my hair colored and cut. I gave the stylist free reign because when it comes to matters of beauty and fashion I, unlike you, am clueless. I think a good fashion sense is something that is given to a daughter by her mother. My mom, God love her, was smacked upside the head with the June Cleaver bat. I was the only girl in church that matched her mother wearing hand made dresses complete with slips, white gloves and matching purses. Nice for the 50’s not so good for a girls social status in the 70’s.

So is it coincidence that the stylist chose to style my hair in the exact same manner as yours? Or is it that this particular style best suits our features? The features we indeed do share. I know this because when I looked at that picture last night it struck me. I grabbed the photo, ran upstairs and opened my drawer where the picture of the two of us lives. It’s too painful to put up as a daily reminder of all I am missing. It’s not because I am hiding you from the world like the reason the copy of this very photo I sent to you sits in your drawer. It’s because I am hiding you from me.

There it was as plain as the nose on my face (no pun intended) we look very much alike. We have the same eyes, large and expressive and turned down in the corners like the shape of a half moon. The lines of age have shown up on my face in the same place yours reside. They are just as deep and do little for our shared plan to hide the past. Our jaws are both squared and strong.

Then there is our hair. Oh the work it takes to tame the beast that is my hair! Ringlets that at any moment are ready to spring into the action of frizz. I wonder if you have to work as hard as I do to make it look like you didn’t stick your finger in a light socket? At the end of the day though here is my hair- highlighted, straight and swept to one side…..just like yours. Of course if I am to be totally honest most days it just gets bundled up in a knot with the frizzy stragglers breaking free of their bondage and sticking out any way they like.

In any case there you have it. I finally see what everyone else has seen all along. We look very much like mother and daughter. It’s just not something that can be easily hidden. I mean you really have to work at not seeing it.

I just thought you should know.

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