Hereditary

I am more like my mawmaw

every single day.

I inherited her laugh,

which sounds like sepia tinted sunshine.

I am the garden she tends to each summer,

a towering sunflower stalk and blushing tulips.

I am carefully becoming my mother,

all cursive letters in electric blue ink.

I inherited her hair,

our golden locks tamed to look just right.

I am the love of literature she taught me,

as I learned to read in my periwinkle room.

I am a young woman now,

a nomad two thousand miles away.

I’ve still got my mawmaw’s laugh,

and a shelf full of books.

I’ve got plans to plant a garden,

when I finally settle down.