daughter

J. H.

I am my mother's daughter.

When I do my hair in the morning,

it's her curls I twist into a braid.

And when I accidentally burn myself while baking,

it's her skin that blisters

and it's her voice that cries out in pain.

The recipes I use come from the same

cookbook she used at my age.

It's in her mother's handwriting.

It’s my handwriting too.

And when I'm driving with someone in 

my passenger seat, and I slam on the brakes,

it's her hand that reaches out to save them,

like she did to me so many times before.

And when I won't change my mind,

it's her stubbornness that people point to.

And I may stumble over my words,

but I'll always find them eventually.

Just like how she always found that missing sock.

And when I cry because of a sad movie

it's her tears that fall on my cheeks.

It's also her hand that wipes them away.

But I'm also my father's daughter.

So when I look in the mirror, 

it's his eyes that stare back at me,

And when I'm trying to make someone laugh,

it's him that tells the joke.

It’s also his nose I scrunch up when I hear something funny.

And when I take a walk, I always admire the flowers,

because he had a habit of getting distracted by them. 

He’s the one that can’t tell the waiter

they brought me the wrong order.

But when I'm standing my ground

it's his feet that keep me stable.

And if I fall, it's his arms that catch me.

When I get lost, it's him that finds me,

cause he's always known his rights from wrongs.

Sorry, rights from lefts.

It's him who guides me through this world and through life.

Because I am my parents' daughter.

They raised me in their image.

The music I listen to is the same music

they taught me to love so many years ago.

The movies I love are the same movies

we would watch together on stormy nights,

while the whole family would gather on the couch.

The food that brings me comfort is the same food 

they would cook together in the kitchen,

fighting over who has to do the dishes that night.

Every piece of me is a piece of them.

My hair, my eyes, my love for the woods,

my drive to be half as good a person as they are.

When we fight it's only because

I inherited their strength, and their

unwillingness to back down.

Because I am my parent’s daughter, 

and I am prouder of that than anything else.