As I look at my stained glass eyes of red, buff, and white, I marvel at how much I look like her-my shaggy auburn mane adding to the effect. I see Mom staring right back at me. My sister must see the quality, too, because, every time I ask her if I should go back to blonde, I get an emphatic YES AND ALWAYS!
If one were to line up my sister, my brother, and me, one would think that we were just friends talking make that arguing make that fighting. From my sister’s 5’2” stature to my brother at 6’2” and me in the middle, we look nothing like siblings taken as a whole. However, if one were to divide us up into pairs, the resemblance is uncanny- short, medium, or tall.
I remember athe snotty photographer at my brother’s wedding. While he pulled off an amazing shot of my brother looking like he was hovering above Granny’s beautiful backyard, he had to do an even trickier photo of the three of us up close without cutting heads off. He nailed it! Of course, all of the things precious to me in the storage units were stolen, so I don’t have the picture.
I miss my brother, but not as much as I miss Mom. The poem, “She Walks in Beauty like the Night,” perfectly describes her- remembering that light and dark are not inherently good or evil; it’s what we do with them that counts. And, she did exceedingly well with both. I love you, Mom. Until we meet again…forever, your youngest.