I never thought it possible, but I am turning into my mother. This is not a terrible thing mind you, but I feel bad about how little I understood her at the time. Now, when I have begun to hate winter, I understand her aversion to the cold and dark. When I sometimes look in the mirror and wonder who that person is, I remember my mom explaining that on the inside, she was much younger than she looked. And when I hear myself saying to my daughter that she shouldn’t be in such a hurry to grow up and that things that seem so serious to her now won’t matter in a while, it echoes my mother’s messages from years ago. Maybe this is a perspective that comes to all of us with age, but I will admit I am glad that it has my mother’s voice.