Spending time with my mother is a gift nowadays. While away at college, it’s easy to forget how much I enjoy her presence and how naturally our personalities play off of one another.
We are bizarre humans together who sometimes communicate solely by singing our words as opera. We attempt exercise with 77 percent failure, and instead usually settle down to watch movies of the Meg Ryan variety. Our peculiar mother-daughter habits have become regular and expected at home, and highlight for me the many ways in which my mother and I are strikingly similar.
Physical traits lay the foundation for the game of family inheritance. It’s quite obvious when looking at my mother and me, especially when we stand next to one another, that we share a fair amount of genes: light brown eyes, dark brown hair, tannish skin, quasi-severe overbites hidden with similarly cheesy smiles and miniature rabbit noses.
Even the most insignificant habits are remarkably alike. I find myself labeling things more and more, like food in the fridge with the date it was opened and details of its contents. I make endless copies of to-do lists consisting of items which remain unaccomplished.
The most bizarre part of our relationship is that with time, I’ve noticed the similarities growing even more. I am increasingly becoming her clone. With age, I am slowly morphing into a slightly-taller version of my mother.
We share the same life philosophies and vague views about humanity and society. It seems we even have similar friendships; we both have the friend who needs to be called four times before getting a hold of her, the friend who’s always down for overpriced sandwiches and the friend who seems to forget we exist.
The best part of our growing sameness is that she essentially lived my life 30 years ago. AS a result, her advice tends to make sense. Sure, we’ve had completely different trajectories, but the same timeless problems concerning life’s drama seem to underlie our experiences.
She’s struggled with certain flaws — our flaws — for some time, and has learned to recognize them in herself. She’s aware of her shortcomings and the frustration they cause. She’s done her empirical research, and has developed effective treatment in the form of meditation and deep breaths.
I, however, have yet to reach that phase of mature self-reflection. And despite the fact that my mother acts as an example and an ideal of how to act in difficult, ideological, character-determining situations, I know I will have to blunder through my own trials and discover my own remedies — as my mother did before me.
Allie’s column runs biweekly Thursdays. She can be reached at a.lank@cavalierdaily.com.
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