Like a mirror sometimes
I went into Matt's room this morning around 5:00 to get him as he had woken up. He's a very reliable alarm clock. But when he's sick that alarm goes off at five instead of six or six-thirty.
Anyway, I go in there and he's laying in his crib. His hair is fluffy and ruffled and blond. There's a bit of sunlight coming in from the window. And I'm looking at me. Well not how I look now, but the me from when I was his age. I've seen pictures of me that he so distinctly mirrors it's uncanny.
I know that familial resemblance runs strong in my family. Anyone who's seen my dad knows this. But it's still somewhat unsettling to have you staring back at you.
Anyway, I go in there and he's laying in his crib. His hair is fluffy and ruffled and blond. There's a bit of sunlight coming in from the window. And I'm looking at me. Well not how I look now, but the me from when I was his age. I've seen pictures of me that he so distinctly mirrors it's uncanny.
I know that familial resemblance runs strong in my family. Anyone who's seen my dad knows this. But it's still somewhat unsettling to have you staring back at you.