i am my mother's child.

i am my mothers child. my mothers hands that held me, that i never wanted, are my own. "we have been cursed with beauty," she said. i always remembered that. and how fragile, how bony her hands were. her resolve to use them, how it amazed me. working in the garden tirelessly, i knew how they ached. our eyes are the same, jade. the big slanted kind, like a cat, someone told me once. my lips are bigger than hers, my breasts too. I remember her being so bothered, "that's not supposed to happen, you must have got your boobs from your dad!" my dad. i was always a daddy's girl, a tomboy, especially when i was young. i retained some traits from my father. he is a good man. but the things i learned best from him, i wish i had not. i learned to lie, how to spend money where it was not needed, and perhaps, how to be lonely. i am my mother's child.

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