hand me downs
over the past few years, i have picked through my mother’s cedar closet at the
end of a hallway. each time i look, i find more pieces to grab and wear as my
style evolves, and seemingly becomes more similar to hers when she was my
age. it started with the blue dress, which i contemplated wearing to my first
homecoming five years ago. i didn’t wear it then, but i do now.
as i get older, i find myself morphing into my mother. it started with her
clothes. then i bleached my hair. and now i attend the minneapolis college of
art and design, where she studied advertising three decades before.
she went to the fineline cafe with her friends, drank on the quad, slept in the
dorms, worked in the city. we are more similar than i thought. this hand me
down life, hers and now mine. i wonder where she will lead me next?
