Mirror

Lately people I've never met -- or rather people I met so long ago I don't remember them -- have been coming up to me, judging my face from one angle then another, and telling me I remind them of my father.

One time the top half of my face was judged to be more like his, another time the bottom half. I've never seen much semblance either way, even when I hold pictures of him up next to me in a mirror and squint really hard.

But I'm okay with this, with not seeing what other people see when they see him in me but I don't. I'm okay with serving as a living portrait of him, in a physical sense or emotional sense, in a genetic sense, or in whatever other sense people want.

Lately I've been trying to think whether my father had any qualities that I wouldn't want, and I haven't thought of any. Maybe someday I'll be able to, recall a time he spoke words too harsh or made a judgment too rash. Or remember thinking, I'll never do that with my kids. But as of now that hasn't happened.

And so, people seeing my father in me, that's okay. In fact, some days I think it's more than okay. It's more than I deserve.