I have my mothers lips.
If you ask me who I resemble, my mother or my father I will always quickly tell you my father. I do look like him. Except for my mothers lips.
As a child people would always say I looked like my Dad and my sister looked more like my Mom. It was a truth I knew.
As I age it becomes more apparent. The size, the lines, my smile. They are all from my Mother.
I don't talk a lot about my Mother on my blog, but blogs are strange like that. We give each other what we want to give. We let you in as much as we are willing or able. Most could all be a lie, the perfect marriage, the big house, the smart kids.
My Mom is great. I have had my problems with her and we fought a lot when I was growing up. We butted heads, maybe because I was more like my father, stubborn, proud, headstrong, typically Irish. They couldn't stay married so maybe the qualities I possessed bothered her about me too.
I am not sure.
I love her. She is strong and so loving. She always finds the good in situations, too much so sometimes. She believes there are reasons for the bad. She has faith in her god. Again, maybe too much sometimes.
Maybe that is what I need more of in my life. Maybe like the glimpse I catch of myself in my mirror, as time passes I will realize I am more like my Mom then I ever thought.
2 months ago