I don’t know about you, but my family is crazy. I just got off the phone with my mother, who, over the span of our conversation, convinced herself that job openings for positions like baristas and bag-people would present themselves at least 4 months in advance, came to think the television was possessed by an evil spirit, failed to see any connection between fervent patriots and religious zealots, and tried reason that you can only get anywhere in society via first impressions.
My father? Well, he’s a whole other can of worms. Suffice it to say that he’s, errr, special.
It’s definitely strange to think that we all came from two people, who each came from two other people, who each came from two more people. I can see similar traits between me and my family, but I feel so unlike my paternal units. I used to think that I had my dad’s brain and my mom’s heart, but now I’m starting to think that nurture has the potential to bury nature irretrievably far into the subconscious.
Maybe it’s better to just think of ourselves as individuals who might resemble other people, regardless of blood relation. We are who we are; it’s as simple as that.
