A Mothers Gift

Inheritance is a curious thing. According to most folk who know my family, I am a younger version of my father. I have been fighting this all my life, disagreeing with the masses. I have recently realised, however, that there might be some element of truth in it. 


People say we have the same mannerisms, the same need to think everything through, to fix things, and our desire to prevent rather than cure. To expand on the latter, I find myself prone to this now that I am king of the castle. It pains me to say this by the way. 


My mother often semi-joked that she had little influence on my traits. I beg to differ, mother. You see, my mother has worn glasses all her life. On her last eye exam, she was declared worse off than before. So much so that the optometrist said there was no point forking out for fancy lenses for both eyes. Why? Because she was too blind in one eye for two to be of any use. True story.


I recently had an eye exam. I was overdue by about 6 months, noticed an increased dependence on my existing glasses, and had been getting dull headaches for about 3 weeks. My mother will be glad to know that I did get something from my her. My new glasses are stronger than before, so much stronger that the first few days saw me stumbling around the city.


So, thanks Mam, I did get something: your eyesight.


(Written while listening to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble - The Heritage EP)