My mother’s face

December 28, 2011

I don’t spend much time looking in the mirror, at least not close up. Sure I do the cursory check to make sure I’m presentable, but because I don’t wear make-up (not since my teens) I don’t have much occasion to examine myself.

So when recently I had a closer look at my face I was surprised to see that my face had come to resemble my mother’s face. The way I remember it when I was a child. Softish skin, freckled (or are those ‘spots’?) with laugh lines around the eyes.

When I was a kid one of my favourite memories was sitting on her bed as she got ready to go out. I would play with her jewelry, she would moisturise and tell me to make sure I remember to put cream on my neck.

Her face then as I remember it, was as mine is now. It’s the same with my hands. The wrinkles around the knuckles go on forever. So when I look at my hands, I don’t see my hands as my mind imagines them to be, I see hers.  My mental image of myself hasn’t caught up with the reality of how I’ve changed.

I guess I am more and more like her than I thought.












My thoughts turned to my favourite photo of her. When she was fresh-faced and full of optimism and hope.  I realise again that I’ve changed. I used to feel that way. Part of me still does, but a bigger part of me now feels older, slower, more practical.

Like she probably did when I would sit on her bed, playing with her jewelry (some of which I now own). I understand now how nice it would have been for her to be going out, having a reason to get spruced up, to feel like not-only-mommy for a while. As parents our adventures are more modest.

When I look at my mother now, I see shades of my Granny. I wish I had know her more but she died when I was nine. I wonder how I am like her, if at all, and in what ways.

My mum resembles Granny but I don’t instantly associate Mum with Granny. Because she is not Granny, she is Grandma to my kids, and more importantly she is my mum. She is blazing a trail for me, always giving me a helping hand, sharing her wisdom, experience and experiences and courageously her fears and mistakes. She is still one of the kindest people I know.

So I’m pretty proud that I’m inheriting some of her traits. I hope I keep discovering how I am like her.


One Response to “My mother’s face”

  1. Barbara Tenner said

    That is the most wonderful tribute! I have tears in my eyes. Thank you my darling daughter.
    Your Mom forever

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