Patterns

While visiting with the Ohio women folk in my family last week, I observed some fascinating patterns.

My grandma, my mom, and I: married, age 24.

We are all firstborn daughters, whose firstborn children have all been daughters.

I learned that when my mom was preparing to get married, my granny renovated her kitchen. My grandpa said that the style of the kitchen made him feel as though he was living in a head of lettuce. My grandma told me this story three times last week.

What’s interesting is that my mom also redid her kitchen in prep for our wedding rehearsal dinner. It does not resemble a head of lettuce, but the color scheme does include green. Funny thing, that.

If this pattern continues, I will possibly own a home by the time my firstborn daughter gets married. I am in a rush for none of these events to materialize (owning a home, daughter getting married, or living in a head of lettuce), so…Good thing I am patient.

Gigi and her loveys

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Mum

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Me.

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I suppose I could try to probe the depths of this pattern of color and kitchen and marrying choices, and how so much of our decisions feel arbitrary, but are because of some seriously systemic hard-wiring from our DNA.

But all I really want to say is how great my granny and my mum look, along with their kitchens, and if I can get a face or a kitchen that looks half as good as theirs do when I am their respective ages, I’ll be doing okay.

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