My son is the spitting image of his father; that was clear even in the first ultrasound images we saw of him. He looks nothing like me.
Lately, though, it seems like every day I see someone else I know in him as well: my dad, his paternal grandfather, my grandmother. It’s only once in a rare while that I catch a subtle glimmer of myself in him. And even then, it’s more of a gesture than a physical feature.
But strangely enough I have begun to see him in me. An expression on my own face in the mirror that reminds me of him. The dimple on my cheek that looks like his. The sound of my voice saying a word in a way that he says it. The shape of my hands foreshadowing what his seem destined to become.
I expected to look at my child and see myself. But somehow it seems even more fitting that instead I look at myself and see him. He is the part of me that was undiscovered until now.