sappy family stuff

throughout my life, the older i get, i see more and more of my roots showing themselves. pieces of my parents, my siblings, and other relatives coming through, in all our finesse and faults.

my voice is that of my mother and sister in one. i am constantly taken for my mom on the phone- even by my own friends. when i laugh the echo is hers; slightly too loud and sharp at times. the accent i use by default when speaking french comes from years of listening to her jabber on with my aunts, uncles and grandfather. [her mother never spoke a word of french, despite having raised 4 bilingual children]

i share the angled bridge of my nose with sarah. it seems to cross between us carrying art and music on its shoulders- neither of which seem to have come from our parents.

my mother's inward curved shoulders replicate themselves in me. my short stature, fingers, ankles, and yellow-toned skin come from my father's side, where the deep-skinned acadian blood is thick and true to its place at the coast.

nanny[my grandmother]'s anxiety about life the universe and everything, resides only half-heartedly in mom and seems to have depleated almost entirely by the third generation.

writing and a love for words i share with uncle rory alone. after a new start in his 50's, he has finished his first novel, and is currently working on several others.

i don't know if crafts, sewing, and other inventing-type projects would have come naturally or merely stem from a childhood of artsy projects under mom's mild direction, and construction in dad's workshop. there is such an allure to *making* something. fixing, adding, combining, concocting.

i don't know what i really share with jamie anymore. or maybe the right word is 'yet'.