watching my father I see snippets of myself. He is old, I am young, but it feels like looking into the mirror when I look at him. He reminds me of my younger self, with a weak body, unmatched stubborness and utter lack of patience for anything, and the total refusal of help with anything- so convinced that he can and will do anything he wants. It’s strange. I am much like his younger self; composed, determined and patiently waiting for him to ask for my help- refusing to volunteer assistance until he’s realized that he can’t do it by himself. Just like he was with me a long time ago- patiently watching and waiting for me to try doing things on ky own, always ready to help when I ask him to.
I think we’ve come full circle. The parent is a child and the child is growing up. And because I am patiently waiting now, and only a little worried and not very scared, it seems my father did a good job.
