My mother never told me that I looked like my father
Likewise, my father never told me that I looked like my mother
My mother would say,
“You have my dimples and my smile”
And my father would say,
“You have my build, my athleticism, and my eyes”
Maybe not the colour, per say, but the shape was important
And my mother never greatly acknowledged the fact that I wouldn’t be playing golf if it weren’t for my father
It was always something like,
“Why didn’t you stay with softball?”
Why didn’t you this, why didn’t you that
And if I told my father something that my mother said to me in the past day
Week
Month
Or however long what she said stuck with me
He would just make a face and
Move on
They both went to my graduation but my step-mom couldn’t make it
She was pregnant at the time and wasn’t allowed to fly
It’s for the best, I think it would’ve made
My step-dad feel awkward
My sisters feel sad and confused
My mother feel ecstatic because at 55 you probably shouldn’t have children anymore
But when your wife is in her thirties, you comply
When your husband is in his thirties and tells you he doesn’t want kids to begin with
It makes you happy, because you’re already fixed and have three beautiful daughters
Three beautiful reminders
Of a mistake you made
I wonder if my mother ever looks at us
Kristina
Rachel
And I
And sees nothing but my father
I wonder how that must feel
To see so much of someone you hate in someone you love
I wonder if my father looks at me and thinks about how much of a woman I’ve become
Of how my body is now shapely instead of flat like cardboard
Of how my face is made up almost every day
Of how boys and girls may follow me around begging for my attention
My mother doesn’t wonder because, for the most part, my mother knows
But still
No matter how much I change
I keep these features that they gave to me
“My smile, my dimples”
“My build, my athleticism, my eyes”
It was never,
“She looks like us”
It was,
“She looks like me”
And for once I just want to be the product of a set
A couple
Two
Not one
Or four