Now that I’m moderately older—nearly 30, wow—I can see it more clearly. 

The small things that add up. The parts of me that look and feel familiar. 

From mom: my hands, my sensitivity.

From my dad: my nose, my stubbornness.

Traits I have previously dismissed because I just didn’t see it, but now I can’t deny it. 

These parts of me, and many more, cultivated over time by my genetics, shared DNA, even the learned behavioral antics. 

More recently, I’ve been pondering on the attributes  I see in my parents that make them who they are, and how these are reflected in my own mannerisms, thought process, attitude, and personality. 

Come to think of it, I wonder what traits my parents saw in themselves from their parents… I’ll have to ask them.

Like so many others, I realized that my parents were far from perfect during my formative years.

There were times when they’d make me feel like anything was possible… when they took me traveling, or when they taught me a new skill.

But there were also times when I dreaded even communicating honestly with my parents… with their outdated beliefs and their silent treatments, and  I wished to be nothing like them.

And as if through a looking glass, I wonder if what I see in them will be what becomes of me in the next five, ten, or twenty years when I go through my own iterations of the same chapters of life.

I think that I’ll ultimately have to decide for myself who I want to be as I continue to grow and learn who I am.

While I’m growing more certain of the power I have over my own choices, I’m definitely influenced by them — this is really where I get it from — I am my own version of my mom and dad.