i walk into my grandparents house.
a one story country house tucked into
the nicest neighborhood in town.
immediately, nicotine grips my nose
and i see a bit of brown seeping from
the walls.
60 years of smoking showing its ugly face.

my younger cousin runs and grabs my legs.
a blue-eyed, blonde-headed 4 year old
who looks like she could be my daughter.
Audrey says hi with her smile and runs
off to play with Max in the dirt.

i sit down with a cup of coffee like a
proper adult.
my family tells me i'm still the spitting image of
my uncle, who was shot in the fourth grade.
a boy brought a gun to school.
it was an accident.

everybody makes small talk.
i don't talk much, which my family has come to
accept.
Thanksgiving hasn't been the same since my
grandmother passed.
nobody tries to pretend anything's different, which
i think is good.

my grandfather stares into the distance and
doesn't talk much either.
everybody tells me we're alike.
i can finally see it.

i drive to Jim Ray's gas station (a family friend)
and buy some batteries for the kid's toys.
the lady, who i assume is related to Jim Ray
stares at me as i cross the store.
i place my purchase on the counter and
like lightning,
she grabs my hand.

"oh my god, you look just like Mark Brown."

she says this with tears in her eyes.
i tell her how we're related and
she says to tell everyone at the house "hello."

"alright, thanks."

i don't go back for a couple of hours.
everybody seems to cry for one reason or another
and one reason is always my resemblance.
i understand plastic surgery.