You've all heard the myth that we turn into our parents. You might have laughed it off, accepted it as possible, or fought the transformation like your very soul depended on it.

I never thought I would be like my parents. Not that I saw the idea with revulsion--- I deeply respect and admire my parents, and we should all be so lucky as to become people like them. I just never thought it could happen, and I had something different in mind when I imagined my adult self.

When I was a child, my father would swell with pride when he (or others) saw his traits in me. He would grin and say, "That's my girl...just like her dad!" I would scowl and stop whatever I was doing. Or my mother would cackle, "Jess stares into space when she eats! I always do that!" Man, I hated that.

For a while, I imagined that I was completely different from Mom and Dad. Even though Dad would say, "I made the very same mistakes when I was your age." When I was a teenager, I didn't *want* to be predictable. I wanted to be mysterious and adult and confound my all-knowing parents.

Then, I turned eighteen. A week after graduation, I was packed and ready for traveling, and I never returned home.

When I left my parents and Pennsylvania, I realized two things. One, I missed them terrribly. My mom once confessed she thought I moved so far away because I didn't want her around. It was not true at all. I don't miss being taken care of, but even after four years I still miss having them around.

The second thing I realized was I WAS BECOMING MY MOTHER, with a lot of Dad mixed in. When I see sexist stereotypes on TV, I grimace and make some cynical remark to whomever is around. My mother, a feminist from the 70's era, would be griping along with me. I laugh out loud a lot, at every silly thing that strikes me as slightly funny. My father is notorious for his constant laughter.
I sometimes say "Mama mia!" (my half-Italian mother's phrase), "don't like it? you can lump it!"(my father's favorite saying), and I even swear at inappropriate times, like my foul-mouthed mother.

It isn't just mannerisms....despite all my rebellion as a teenager (which was against people who were impossible to shock), I have adopted their politics, their humor, and their outlook on the world. Even their ear for music.

Mike told me after our visit to Easton (which I described to you in one of my first posts here) that I was definitely my mother's daughter. So maybe Mom and Dad aren't so far away after all.

I got to thinking about this today, when I was trying on my new shorts. From the waist up, it was me. But the legs I saw in the mirror were my mother's.