the looks we share

He and I find our seats at table four with the parents of the bride, virtually the only people we know other than their four daughters and spouses. The father of the bride’s sister sits to her brother’s right, directly across from me. I study their visages, making a mental inventory of similarities and differences in their features, wondering who is older and what their relationship is like. They lean toward one another for a brief, easy exchange I cannot hear. Though she is blonde and he grey, and her lips are adorned with an appealing shade of mauve, they share a facial structure, have similar, well-earned crinkly lines at the sides of their eyes, and their smiles are nearly identical. There is no denying they are brother and sister.

I first knew family resemblance when my oldest daughter was born. I was 31. And though she favors her father’s side, our eyes and brows, and smiles are similar. There’s no denying we are mother and daughter.

I take a bite of salad, look beyond the brother and sister across from me, and scan the room to locate the four daughters who look so similar and are clearly their mother’s daughters. And I think about you two, and me, sitting together next weekend, meeting for the first time, taking each other in, looking for what we share that is nature and what differs because of nurture, and I wonder if someone will look our way and think, “There’s no denying those three are siblings.”

One thought on “the looks we share

  1. I can feel the anticipation of this slice, Lisa. I’ve been keeping track of your journey/discovery on Instagram this summer and I look forward to reading more about what awaits next weekend.


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