I am going to pretend that I didn't take the longest blog hiatus ever and that the power cord fire thing didn't even happen. I would appreciate if you close your eyes and pretend too. Please open them again to start reading though.
There is no denying that I am my mother's daughter. I sound like her on the phone. I have her weakness for sweet foods. I stare at strangers and even smile at them sometimes if they catch me. I make up new words to songs or make songs out of things that don't need to be made into songs in the first place. I get annoyed and want to tell everyone about it. And, if you cover up her hair in pictures from about 20 years ago...it might as well be my face. There is no denying I am hers.
My dad is another story. Besides his stick straight brown hair and propensity to get overheated and break a sweat when temperatures reach 70 degrees, our similarities are harder to find. He is sometimes painfully private (to the point that he won't even tell me who he votes for in elections...even local ones). He could be outside all day long and is most days. He's not a "talk it out" kind of guy. He doesn't like change. He has blue eyes. And, he despises being in a city.
You have to squint to see the similarities.
There is no denying that I am my mother's daughter. I sound like her on the phone. I have her weakness for sweet foods. I stare at strangers and even smile at them sometimes if they catch me. I make up new words to songs or make songs out of things that don't need to be made into songs in the first place. I get annoyed and want to tell everyone about it. And, if you cover up her hair in pictures from about 20 years ago...it might as well be my face. There is no denying I am hers.
My dad is another story. Besides his stick straight brown hair and propensity to get overheated and break a sweat when temperatures reach 70 degrees, our similarities are harder to find. He is sometimes painfully private (to the point that he won't even tell me who he votes for in elections...even local ones). He could be outside all day long and is most days. He's not a "talk it out" kind of guy. He doesn't like change. He has blue eyes. And, he despises being in a city.
You have to squint to see the similarities.
...
It was Thanksgiving night and everyone in the house was asleep. I was laying in bed listening to music on my iPod and playing some iPod game. Right after a random pop song, Death Cab for Cutie's Bixby Cannon Bridge came through my ear buds.
Musical euphoria. I can't even think of a better way to describe it. There is something about music that can completely move my soul. Touch me and evoke the rawest of emotions. This song struck a cord and really always does. Things don't always go as planned. Sometimes your mom says that she misses your dad's family and really wishes she could be there with everyone for the holiday. Sometimes you look across the table and know that your grandfather is sick. Sometimes someone tells you there are no good memories. Sometimes you close your eyes and know that this moment will never happen again.
My dad and I were sitting in his den the other day and he put on a CD of bagpipe music. My dad has forever said that he wanted Amazing Grace and Coming Home played on the bagpipes at his funeral...as his coffin is lifted up onto a firetruck (since he has been a fireman for over 30 years...it is fitting). As we sat there, my dad told me that one day he came home from work and put this same CD on and listened and just cried. He said, "Sometimes it just feels so good to just cry. Really, cry." I've seen my dad cry a few times. I'm not one of those girls who thinks her dad is invincible. We left my dad. A lot of kids of divorced families talk about when their fathers left. Mine never did. He stayed in our house for weeks after we moved out. He stayed. And, he is like me. He hurts. He listens to sad music to cry. To feel.
So...on Thanksgiving, I was overwhelmed and so happy that this song came to me on shuffle. I just started crying. I'm thankful for a lot, but I am really sad about a lot too. I wish I could pull my sadness from my being and rid myself of it. I wish I knew how to do that, so that I didn't carry it with me. But, I'm sad. Sad about things I can't even make sentences out of. Sad about things that don't form into words and roll off the tongue. These are things you are sad about in your soul and they well up in your eyes. Sad in your stomach muscles and tightened lips. And in this song...this beautifully emotional song I can let it all go for a fleeting moment...and be thankful for that.
And, it was this that made me see it. Squinting. I saw it. Our likeness may not be physical. It may not be our mannerisms or habits. But, it is found in how we feel. Or, don't. Or, try to. We turn on a song to feel and we do. We are the same.
Musical euphoria. I can't even think of a better way to describe it. There is something about music that can completely move my soul. Touch me and evoke the rawest of emotions. This song struck a cord and really always does. Things don't always go as planned. Sometimes your mom says that she misses your dad's family and really wishes she could be there with everyone for the holiday. Sometimes you look across the table and know that your grandfather is sick. Sometimes someone tells you there are no good memories. Sometimes you close your eyes and know that this moment will never happen again.
My dad and I were sitting in his den the other day and he put on a CD of bagpipe music. My dad has forever said that he wanted Amazing Grace and Coming Home played on the bagpipes at his funeral...as his coffin is lifted up onto a firetruck (since he has been a fireman for over 30 years...it is fitting). As we sat there, my dad told me that one day he came home from work and put this same CD on and listened and just cried. He said, "Sometimes it just feels so good to just cry. Really, cry." I've seen my dad cry a few times. I'm not one of those girls who thinks her dad is invincible. We left my dad. A lot of kids of divorced families talk about when their fathers left. Mine never did. He stayed in our house for weeks after we moved out. He stayed. And, he is like me. He hurts. He listens to sad music to cry. To feel.
So...on Thanksgiving, I was overwhelmed and so happy that this song came to me on shuffle. I just started crying. I'm thankful for a lot, but I am really sad about a lot too. I wish I could pull my sadness from my being and rid myself of it. I wish I knew how to do that, so that I didn't carry it with me. But, I'm sad. Sad about things I can't even make sentences out of. Sad about things that don't form into words and roll off the tongue. These are things you are sad about in your soul and they well up in your eyes. Sad in your stomach muscles and tightened lips. And in this song...this beautifully emotional song I can let it all go for a fleeting moment...and be thankful for that.
And, it was this that made me see it. Squinting. I saw it. Our likeness may not be physical. It may not be our mannerisms or habits. But, it is found in how we feel. Or, don't. Or, try to. We turn on a song to feel and we do. We are the same.
4 comments:
This is a really beautiful post. :)
I think we all take after our mums but there is always something little we realise that we take after our dads... a quirk.
Welcome back from the drama that we will not discuss.
Aw, love this.
I may look like my dad, but I am truly my mother's daughter. I think, if you just listened to audio of each of us for a few minutes, you'd have a hard time telling us apart as two people. ;-)
I definitely look like my mother, but in my mannerisms and my personality I'm more like my dad.
Al and Lilu: Thank you! Isn't it crazy how sometimes you can look so like one parent in some ways. Sometimes it freaks me out I am so like my mom. Oh, and Lilu...I saw those pictures of the santa hats you wore at Christmas...something tells me you don't just share a voice with your mom.
Jaime: Isn't weird when you realize that you are a true mix of both your parents? It might just be me, but it almost freaks me out some time.
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