For My Mom

When people see my son they always say he looks exactly like his dad, and he does.  No one ever says he looks like me, and no one ever says I look like my parents. Is this one of natures weird things?  Do boys look like their dads for some hormonal response while girls are left to fill the in between? Anyway, on a recent trip home I found a picture of my mom that I had never seen before and for the first time all the genes fell in to place. 

First, she looks like me. Second, I look like Darren. Third, she is reading and holding baby me.  Holding a baby and reading may be the happiest I have ever been in my life, and she looks just as happy.  I don’t have many pictures of myself during that time because I was busy - you know – holding the baby and reading, but I did find one and when I put the pictures side by side I smile. *Stupid computer won't let me put them side by side, but you get the point.

We look so much alike, except she is clearly a much snappier dresser than my hobo self, and we look so happy.  My mom and me, as mothers.  It makes me feel all the feelings.  It is hard being a mother and it is hard being a daughter, but it is also marvelous.

After staring at the picture for a bit I delved straight into figuring out what book she was reading.  She was pretty sure her mother had given it to her and I found the cover in a matter of minutes thanks to the wonders of the interwebs. Amazon had a used copy for one penny – I mean, I know some of you think Amazon is the devil but ONE PENNY! – I ordered it, read it, and here is what I thought:

“I used to wonder how much of life was predestined.” Truth.

 

50.12 The House of a Thousand Candles

The book started out like Downton Abby meets Rebecca, with the shadowy house, a new owner who is also a stranger, the downstairs help gossiping and longing for the old days. It then turned into more of a romance with a tinge of mystery that all gets wrapped up nicely like a bow in the end. Much of the plot seemed to revolve around little tidbits of Chinese history and culture that the author was proud of sharing but there was also: adultery, consumption, spinal cord injuries, ancient Chinese relics, hidden rooms, hallucinations, and, of course, muuuuuurder. It was fun and escapist.  Quite perfect for so many reasons.  Then and now.

It reminded me of the other books my mother has given me when she knows that I simply need a safe place to fall. I guess her mother knew the same thing about her. We are both very lucky for that.  And now, so is my son.