"You look like your mother."
I've heard it a hundred times, more, since I was 10 or so.
It never hit me one way or another.
Sometimes I thought so, sometimes not, depending on how my hair was styled or if I was angry with her that day.
I'm not old, but today the face in the mirror doesn't look so young anymore.
There are wrinkles around my eyes and hidden under my bangs, and they aren’t going anywhere.
I wonder when she decided she wasn't young anymore.
I wonder when she decided she was or wasn't anything.
We have had such different lives that I can't imagine I'm reaching the same stages at the same times.
But I see her in the mirror, in my face.
Did she feel this way? When? Did she tell anyone or simply move on, her heart just a little bit heavier for the silence?
What did she want when she was 32? Or 42? Or 12? Or now?
Why don't I know these things?
Because she's been only an extension of me my whole life.
Someone who did to me or for me or with me or because of me.
Who would she be if it hadn't been for me?
Her life began when mine began, and when her life ends mine will still mean something only if I truly knew her.
I stare in the mirror until my face is nothing more than a blur, looking for answers but getting only more questions.
I look like my mother.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
lucky numbers
3, 23, 6, 21, 89
These are my lucky numbers. They weren’t always. My ultimate favorite number used to be 4, and I still really like it. It’s square, even. It satisfies my inner need (some call it a freakish compulsion) for things to be the same on all sides. Multiples of 4 are good, too. It made me very happy that my graduation years from grammar school, high school and college were 1980, 1984 and 1988, respectively.
I also like 914 and its handful of permutations. I thought it followed me around my whole life. It’s my birthday, as well as what I weighed when I was born (9 lbs + 14 oz = 1 big baby). When I moved into my first house, 914 was the area code to my new phone number, it was jumbled around to make up the address (149 Orange Turnpike), and all 3 digits were in my ZIP code (10974). And in 1994 the NY Rangers ended a 54-year championship drought when they won the Stanley Cup.
I thought it meant something that those numbers were somewhat of a constant in my life, related to things that made me happy, though I wasn’t sure what it meant. I’ve always had a weird "thing" about numbers, putting them in patterns to remember them, adding them up. I’ll always remember the last 4 digits to the phone number of the local garage in the town where I used to live (5861) because my brothers were born in 1957 and 1960; just add 1 to each and you have 58 and 61. Weird, yes. Convoluted, definitely. But I knew I would always be able to call for a tow truck. It’s a wonder I didn’t become an accountant or mathematician.
But I think my lucky numbers are changing.
I met him on March 23 at 6:00, at a bar on 21st Street. See? 3, 23, 6, 21. It’s as simple as that.
3 also works because, as "they" often say, the third time is the charm. It certainly is in my case. It’s a charm and a blessing and cause to actually reconsider whether there really is a higher power. 3 is also the number of people I am adding (hope to add) to my immediate family. (I said "people," so Maggie can’t be insulted or feel left out!) And 6 and 23 figure in again because he kissed me for the first time on the corner of 6th Avenue and 23rd Street.
89 is a little more unusual, but he’s the one who actually realized it. He told me when his daughter was born he added up the numbers of her birth date and year (3/11/94) and came up with 108; he did the same with his son (8/10/90) and got 108. Just a coincidence, probably, but it meant something to him. Add up the numbers to my birth date and year (9/14/66) and you get 89. Add up his (3/26/60) and you get 89. Does it mean anything? I don’t know. But it’s another case of numbers bringing me an odd sort of comfort. If nothing else, he’s as preoccupied with seemingly inconsequential numbers as I am.
I’ll always have a place in my heart for 914, and especially for 4. Its evenness still brings me comfort in an OCD kind of way. But I’m willing to make room for some new lucky numbers.
Maybe I should play the lottery. But really, I feel like I already won.
These are my lucky numbers. They weren’t always. My ultimate favorite number used to be 4, and I still really like it. It’s square, even. It satisfies my inner need (some call it a freakish compulsion) for things to be the same on all sides. Multiples of 4 are good, too. It made me very happy that my graduation years from grammar school, high school and college were 1980, 1984 and 1988, respectively.
I also like 914 and its handful of permutations. I thought it followed me around my whole life. It’s my birthday, as well as what I weighed when I was born (9 lbs + 14 oz = 1 big baby). When I moved into my first house, 914 was the area code to my new phone number, it was jumbled around to make up the address (149 Orange Turnpike), and all 3 digits were in my ZIP code (10974). And in 1994 the NY Rangers ended a 54-year championship drought when they won the Stanley Cup.
I thought it meant something that those numbers were somewhat of a constant in my life, related to things that made me happy, though I wasn’t sure what it meant. I’ve always had a weird "thing" about numbers, putting them in patterns to remember them, adding them up. I’ll always remember the last 4 digits to the phone number of the local garage in the town where I used to live (5861) because my brothers were born in 1957 and 1960; just add 1 to each and you have 58 and 61. Weird, yes. Convoluted, definitely. But I knew I would always be able to call for a tow truck. It’s a wonder I didn’t become an accountant or mathematician.
But I think my lucky numbers are changing.
I met him on March 23 at 6:00, at a bar on 21st Street. See? 3, 23, 6, 21. It’s as simple as that.
3 also works because, as "they" often say, the third time is the charm. It certainly is in my case. It’s a charm and a blessing and cause to actually reconsider whether there really is a higher power. 3 is also the number of people I am adding (hope to add) to my immediate family. (I said "people," so Maggie can’t be insulted or feel left out!) And 6 and 23 figure in again because he kissed me for the first time on the corner of 6th Avenue and 23rd Street.
89 is a little more unusual, but he’s the one who actually realized it. He told me when his daughter was born he added up the numbers of her birth date and year (3/11/94) and came up with 108; he did the same with his son (8/10/90) and got 108. Just a coincidence, probably, but it meant something to him. Add up the numbers to my birth date and year (9/14/66) and you get 89. Add up his (3/26/60) and you get 89. Does it mean anything? I don’t know. But it’s another case of numbers bringing me an odd sort of comfort. If nothing else, he’s as preoccupied with seemingly inconsequential numbers as I am.
I’ll always have a place in my heart for 914, and especially for 4. Its evenness still brings me comfort in an OCD kind of way. But I’m willing to make room for some new lucky numbers.
Maybe I should play the lottery. But really, I feel like I already won.
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