My daughter, my self
The introduction was one – sided; she was asleep. There was no chance for first (and lasting) impressions. I did all the talking and staring. Sometimes I smiled but not for long. I didn’t stay long either; I was still in pain. That was six years ago. And I’m almost tempted to say (or write) ‘how fast they grow’/ ‘how time flies’. Soon we’ll be talking heels and weaves. Idolor and daughters. That’s what’s a close cousin of mine called me back then, and I’d encourage him. It was no secret, I wanted daughters. To do girly things with, to be girly with but more importantly ( and a little selfishly too) to have a little ‘me’. I was curious to see what a younger, female, version of me would turn out to be. Would she have sharper or softer features than me? Would she look exactly like me or not? Understandably, I was very excited when T arrived. Finally, my wish was going to come true. How wrong I was. My first sighting of her (during our first introduction) deflated that excitement like a balloon, with a loud pop. A striking resemblance There was little or nothing in[…]
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