Member-only story
Sometimes I Look Like My Mom
Resemblance is more than skin deep
At unguarded moments, I capture a glimpse of my smile in a window, and I see my mom. Occasionally, a profile picture or side-angle view reveals an unexpected echo of her. The genetics I inherited mostly favor my dad. But in subtle and significant ways, I look like my mom.
When I find myself giggling with the unknown toddler running full force on a mission to nowhere, I look like my mom. When I start chatting with grocery line shoppers, who had no intention of speaking to me, I look like my mom. When a sense of injustice bubbles up inside, as I seek to support and champion the underdog, I look like my mom.
As a feeler, like me, partial to the elderly and children, my mom had a presence that invited hugs from mere acquaintances and grins from strangers. She cared about what others thought a bit too much and trusted without boundaries. But mostly, she valued connection with everyone.
When she served recess duty at my elementary school, the other kids would ask: “Is your mom going to be here today?” I convinced myself they liked her more than me. I wasn’t too concerned about popularity even then. But still.
When I was a tween, my young heart yearned for a leather bracelet with my name on it. At my school, we wore uniforms. Our opportunity to display creativity in apparel was with accessories. This fashion trend was one we could embrace, and it swept through the student body. As the holidays approached, I voiced my desire for this wristlet, often and persistently.
When I unwrapped the box at Christmas containing my leather bracelet, I flipped it over, heart-pounding, and stopped. It didn’t have my name on it. It said, “Becky.” I looked up to mom.
“It says, Becky?” I asked. She called me “Hon” most of the time, but I was sure she knew my name.
She smiled. “I had a hard time finding one with your name on it,” she stated, her eyes shining. “I knew how much you wanted one. I thought this was close enough.”
So, I wore my Becky bracelet every day. And I fielded questions each day about why I was wearing a bracelet that spelled out someone else’s name. I told them why. They smiled politely and skipped away. What was there to…
