Don't tell anyone -- I'm turning into my mother.
And that is not at all a bad thing. My mother was a lot of things, but most of all, she was beautiful, vivacious, out-going, and every person she met was just a friend she didn't know about yet. In short. She was everything I was not, and all those things were simply lost on her INTJ daughter. I quietly admired her for all these traits and more and knew that I could never come close to emulating them. She danced as if no one were watching, sang and played music to an audience of one, and, I hope, she loved as if she had never been hurt. And what do you know? Fifty years later, I bear a distinct resemblance to her. The shape and color of my blue eyes (they finally settled on a color?), the way I set my mouth, my smile... I resemble her more than either of us ever thought. I always joked that I must've been adopted because I never resembled her in the least, and I didn't come close to the dark beauty that came from my dad's family like my brother did. Things are different now.
I'm also more outgoing. Everyone I meet becomes a friend. I'm surprised everyday in the hospital by people I have met and befriended in the research community, the University community, friendships I have strived to keep going years and years past when we saw each other on a daily basis. I truly value those friendships and those visits.
Oh, I'll never have a nose like hers... and I hope I never sneeze like she did... but the rest?? Bring it on. So all those years I was dreading turning into my mother? I am so glad it happened. I wish she were here to see it.
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