often wonder how my eventual children will describe me and the mistakes
I am sure to make with them. They
will have plenty of things to choose from—my perfectionism, how I
worry about everything, my impatience, my depression and anxiety, etc.
I worry about what I will pass on to them through my D.N.A....the
risk of diabetes, the possibility of depression and anxiety disorders
that they will try to self-medicate because they are too stubborn to
accept help, the tendency to sweat too much when they are nervous which
will be much of the time, a sweet tooth, a right leg that is 1/8th
of an inch shorter than the left that will curve their spine, the
inclination towards perfectionism—all things that my parents got from
theirs and then passed to me.
I will be lucky and, like me, they will grow up to realize that their
parents, regardless of their mistakes and imperfections, did the best
they could at the time. Maybe,
like me, they will remember that their parents made them laugh, taught
them to love the written word and music, and that that they were loved
beyond reason. Maybe,
before it is too late, I will learn the value of what my parents gave me
and learn how to live it so that I can give that to my children.
© Salahub 2003