Inheritance

All my most annoying habits come straight from my mother. This is pretty much what my last two significant boyfriends and I have all decided. She's neurotic, relentless and will chase you down even if you're desperately asking for some goddamn personal space. She worries about my health, my future, my job, my love life, even my teeth. And she sprinkles a whole bunch of Chinese and Catholic guilt atop everything that she feeds you.

I've been working on shedding this madness for years. And it seems that finally, I've been able to come to terms with how these traits have influenced my life and how to let them go, at least a little. It's hard work, especially because I love my mother so fucking much. She's an amazing lady, despite everything that makes us both a little crazy.

Every fall when the San Francisco air starts to get a little nippy, I start wearing this black turtleneck that I stole from her when I was about 17. It's nothing fancy or special, except that it fits really well and is some crazy polyester blend that no one makes anymore. But I do get complimented all the time when I wear it, which I've always wondered about. Can people tell that I took it from my mother's drawer?

One of my favorite baby pictures is from a birthday party for me and my brother, I was probably 3 and he was about 8. I'm in a highchair with my brother making some mischievous face next to me. My mom is wearing the famed black turtleneck. She's gorgeous (she's always been and continues to be alarmingly beautiful) and smiling and it's clear that she loves us both immensely. I was too young to remember the party, but the image of that photograph pops into my head whenever I'm feeling warm and fuzzy towards her. I love that turtleneck.

Along with that turtleneck and a whole list of neurosis, I've also inherited her smile, her habit of putting her hand flat across her collar bones when she worries, and her undying devotion towards the ones that she loves. She's drilled into me that mistakes are part of life, but when we lie, bad things happen. I've learned that being a really good friend sometimes means flying across the world to surprise them on their 60th birthday. It's from her that I learned to dig your heels in when things are getting difficult and to give your loved ones gifts, even when you can't afford them for yourself. I learned that no matter how much she disapproves of whatever "crazy" thing I'm doing at the moment (piercings, tattoos, performing arts, boyfriends, etc. etc.), she'd rescue me in a second if I was ever in trouble. These are some of the things I've inherited from her.

So here I am, on the eve of Father's Day, and I can do nothing but write about my mother because as much as everyone knows that I'm daddy's girl (and proud of it!), I'm also my mother's daughter. And in her proudest moments (when she allows herself to be proud of the "unconventional" daughter), I hope that she sees a part of herself reflected in me. I hope that she realizes that I am who I am because she's been doing nothing but giving me gifts since the day I was born.