Okay, got up, washed some dishes, had a soothing cup of tea (worked last night), threw some dirty laundry in the machine, just had some pancakes, bacon and eggs and now, sipping a second glass of mimosa (like I said… worked last night). Naturally it’s time to write!
A few days ago, my daughter posted an absolutely gorgeous picture of herself on IG, using it in part to thank her lucky stars (and her parents secondarily) for her good fortune in looking so much younger than what is documented on her birth certificate. After I publicly showed my approval, it started me thinking about DNA and genetics. More specifically, I mentally started to shake my head in wonder at the indisputable gangsta of it!
When I look at my daughter, most times it simply just takes my breath away! It is not just her ‘clean’ physical beauty, but at times, well, most times, I swear there is a light that emanates from somewhere deep inside of her soul that touches her heart and reflects off of her smile (yes… I am a huge fan of hers!). Truly. But, the other aspect of looking at her that renders me speechless at times is her likeness in both the physicality and mannerisms to both her father and me. As a parent, one cannot help but to possess a touch of narcissism J . I mean, wow!
So, her picture sent me on this course of tossing around this thing called DNA and forced me to take a few moments to process just how potent it really is. The indulgence in the number of ways there are to either deny or hide from our heritages, but that are irrevocably belied every time is astounding! It’s tantamount to coming up against the ultimate in a scientific lie-detector! Think about it – I suspect (okay, I know) there have been and will continue to be moments that my daughter would prefer to deny ownership of her father – hahaha – okay, both her parents. But, with the legitimacy of the blood coursing through her veins aside, that young lady will have to employ some fancy plastic-surgery work to reconstruct the stamp both he and I have left on her physical being! I mean, the eyes, nose, smile, shape of the head, ass, body type, moles… now that I think of it, is she even she? Or, is she just a beautiful, gorgeous, intelligent, self-aware (much younger) ‘me’, well, ‘him’, well….
The funny thing is this – I have spent quite a bit of my own life praying to not be the parts of my mother that I do not admire; taking off my inches and attempting to run for the hills every time I smell some of her traits gaining on me. But, like my daughter, I have realized running is futile; I am unable to out-distance those chromosomes! In reality, as I venture deeper into this thing called ‘life’, I anticipate I will find that more and more, in many ways, I will at one time or another look, sound or act like either of my parents. Like it or not.
Listen, isn’t this ‘human being’ business fascinating? I mean, when we sit down and truly connect with the fact that just because two people did the ‘nasty’ (a teeny-tiny bit raw), we are destined to now wander around with some undeniable and indisputable reminders of that fact, isn’t that mind-boggling? Isn’t it? Well, that is unless of course there is a need to visit ‘Maury”. Ha-ha. But seriously – God sure did know what He was doing when He decided that yummy, sexy naughtiness will be the vehicle to continuous humankind. Brilliant! And not only that, He also decided that when you’re finished being ‘nasty’, He will publicly put your business on the street nine/ten months later by making sure everyone knows exactly who you did it with!
Hmmmmm… like it or not, our links to our ‘people’ are undeniable and I for one, as much as I grumble and bitch about this and that, am quite pleased with the genes I have inherited! I like the fact that through my sisters, people can identify me upon sight. I like belonging. Having others walking around this earth who look like, sound like and act like me helps to anchor and ground me. Knowing that I can lay claim to them and they me gives me immeasurable security. Having reflections of my face and mannerisms littering and peppering myriad corners of the world actually makes me chuckle (and, laugh at yall) J
So sometimes, I apologize to Neesie for having picked her father (good-naturedly of course); but quite frankly, in so many of the ways that matter, the cocktail that resulted from our coupling is something that she should be very grateful for – I know I am…