We will rejoice in you and be glad;
We will extol your love more than wine.
Rightly do they love you.
Song of Solomon 1:4
They say all women turn into their mothers over time. I, for one, was determined to avoid that fate: I would be my own unique individual! Lingering momisms would not vanquish me! Then one morning I woke up and told Ian, “You’re a peach.” I made chocolate pudding with lots of peanutbutter. I fell in love with Fried Green Tomatoes (Ian and I accidentally own two copies now). I offer people a strike-anywhere match whey they do something “brilliant.”
This made me wonder: if I turn into my mother, but she turned into her mother, am I slowly turning into Nana? But wait! Nana had to get her traits from somewhere: her mom! Which brings up the question: if every woman turns into her mother, are we all turning into a woman ancestor of ours? Have we traded some traits down like heirlooms (the bad one being like that ugly sofa you’d get rid of only it’s been in the family for generations), conserving them and passing them along? Are some of my turns of phrase left over from some Irish great-great-great-great-great grandmother? Where are traits lost? How long are they passed on? And will my children call people a “peach” when they are pleased?