Charlotte

Apparently, when I was a baby, i looked just like my baby cousin Charlotte. According to one of my grandmothers, that is. She took one look at my scrapbook and exclaimed, "Who is that picture of?" I told her that it was me, back in the depths of 2002, huddled into a carseat and grinning like a snowman. "Really? It looks so much like Charlotte! Doesn't she look like Charlotte?"

My aunt leaned over her lap and inspected the page. It happened to be one of my favorites, featuring four carseat shots, a multicolored ribbon, and paper baby block cut-outs that read "Let's Get Going." The ribbon, from my mother; the pictures, from my father; the work on the page, from me. It blossomed. "Wow," remarked my aunt. "It sure does."

Now, Charlotte and I only share one blood ancestor, my grandfather. It's rather peculiar that we would look alike. Just like peculiarities in the way that even if situations only have one thing in common, you can draw from them and find strength. My current school and my previous school both have teachers. I can deal with them now. The day I got stuck in a subway and the day I thought I lost my parents were both cloudy. Now when the sun isn't out, I take extra precautions to make sure I am okay, which is always good in my family's book. When she died and when my friend's grandfather died. Someone died. Tears. Different tears.