Some mornings I stare into the mirror and see my mother’s gap-tooth smile grinning back at me. My wavy hair is my father’s gift to me, although he considered it a curse. When I was much younger I didn’t see these strong resemblances, or perhaps I didn’t want to recognize them. Although there were things I admired in each of my parents there were also traits I actively tried not to repeat. Whether it is genetics or childhood imprinting, I find myself slipping into characteristics that I had hoped not to replicate. At times I feel as if the ghosts of my parents are making words come out of my mouth or leading me into actions that were not my intention. It’s a bit scary and a bit comforting at the same time.