You are a reflection of me. Not a perfect reflection; but like the reflection you might see in rippling water. I hear in your laughter my own laughter, I see in your smile my own smile. I witness in your temperament characteristics that I know exist in myself.
There's a sweet irony about becoming a mother. Despite how ardently I used to promise that I'd be nothing like my mother, I think I am actually very much like my mother. From my laugh to my smile to my temperament. It's been so many years since she's been gone, and I still find myself missing her. But her love for me lives in my love for you. Thanks to you, I can see that she is always with me.