They seemed to have a strange affinity, one with the other.'
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I studied the children at the gymnastics class and the young man with them, the father of one of them, I guessed. One little girl had blonde curly hair and big brown eyes. Her face had the roundness and flush of just-past infancy and it was difficult to see how it would develop. She was still little more than a baby but already her mouth seemed to have a stubborn set to it, a determination to have her own way. She was a pretty child, no doubt about it, but perhaps wilful and difficult – ‘a proper little character’ as some would say, thinking themselves fortunate that they would not have to witness evidence of her individuality. As I watched, she smiled and all hint of contrariness disappeared.
My attention was diverted by my own daughter executing a perfect back walk-over. When I looked back to the two children I decided that the other child, slightly older, I thought, was the young man’s daughter. She had the same straight, dark hair and deep-set brown eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced and a slight dimple in her chin confirmed it for me.
As the class came to an end, my daughter ran up to me, excited by the praise and encouragement the coach had given her. She looked over to the two little girls and waved at them. They were about to start their class.
‘Do you know those two?’ I asked.
She told me they were called Anne and Sarah.
‘And is that their daddy with them?’
She giggled. ‘No, he’s Sarah’s big brother. He’s watching them both until Anne’s mummy gets here.’
I nodded. The likeness between Sarah and her brother was remarkable.
As we were leaving a tall blonde woman came in and I waited a moment to see the greeting between mother and daughter, to confirm my deductions. To my surprise, she hugged the child I had thought was Sarah, shook hands with the young man and said ‘Hello’ to the little blonde-haired Anne.
For a moment I felt like saying to the tall blonde, ‘Are you sure?’ but common sense prevailed and my daughter and I went home.
(I have made the same wrong connections in the past and also other people have wrongly assumed my blonde daughters belonged to someone else!)
Good one, Janice. I know what you mean. Some people just look like other people's children.
ReplyDeleteThere's no accounting for genetics sometimes. My youngest brother used to look like me when he was a youngster. Then, when he was 14, I realized he looked like my other brother, who had never resembled me.
People have often told me how much I look like my mother, but other people have said the same thing to my sister, who looks nothing like me at all.
Most mysterious.
—Kay, Alberta, Canada
I can really relate to this tale, I have made similar wrong connections too. Sometimes what looks logical turns out to be the exact opposite.
ReplyDeleteSo true. I guess we all make these assumptions. I too have a blond, blue eyed daughter and had three sons with dark hair and eyes like mine (well-used to be that is). Good story.
ReplyDeleteWell constructed prose - but I feel you need a few words more in the first para to make it clear(er) that the young man is looking after two little girls.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this, Janice. It is true that sometimes one can't figure out just 'who' belongs to 'who.'
ReplyDelete