when she is driving, i look at her wrists because they are almost exactly like mine, except paler. my wrists attach her hands to her arms. just a little piece of me out there on the tan leather steering wheel. i get this sensation sometimes when i see my mother's wrists, except that hers are almost sixty years old and therefore easier to not recognize.
there are certain ways in which she will say certain things that sound a little too much like me, or i suppose, where i sound like her. i never could be clear if i was an imitator or just another similar expression of my parents' genes. but i have never heard my mother or father speak in this tone, this kind of bouncy challenging tone that could be anything from friendly teasing to flirtation to sarcasm to condescension. so maybe i am an imitator. except that i haven't lived with her in nine years, and yet when we're pissed off, we still talk like we're the same person.