When I was a boy, I thought that my
parents were gods and knew
everything. When I was older I
thought they knew nothing. As
an adult, I would speak and hear their
words coming out of my mouth.
I had children, and watched them go through
the same cycle from the
other side. Then came the day when my
son spoke, and it was with
my voice, and the voice of my father,
and of my grandmother.
And the voice of my daughter was mine,
and my mother’s, and her
grandfather’s. Resonating. None of
us are our own people.