Sometimes it's surreal how much I end up talking to myself, but it should be noted that the reflection of me is about four-feet tall and has curly brown hair. Alexis doesn't look like me at all, but don't be fooled. Her mind most definitely works like mine does. More notably, I'm relatively certain she ripped out a piece of my heart when she was in the womb and now uses that piece as her own heart.
There is no doubt that she is mine. She is my mental and emotional clone. She has my personality and then some.
But.
But, as we near her seventh birthday, it is becoming more and more clear that she is travelling a very different path than I did. She bears the scars of experience, but her scars are superficial. Mine went all the way to the bone. She doesn't know what she doesn't know and sometimes I wonder, is that OK?
When we wander through a store or the mall or wherever, she is full of "Can I?" "May I?" and "PLEEEEASE?" She wants everything she sees, to the point that I say no without even knowing what the rest of her question will be. She is spoiled, and that is our fault, but is it really a problem that she doesn't know the disappointment that is a Christmas without gifts or an evening without dinner?
She's never gone hungry, never had to wear the same shirt three times in one week, and she certainly hasn't ever been left to fend for herself in the midst of poverty-filled trailer park. Her biggest tragedy right now is that she really wants a new suitcase and her super-mean parents won't let her use her own money to buy one (just yet). Little does she know how very fortunate she is to have somewhere to go. She has been on more vacations during her 6 years and 360 days of life than I took in my first 25 years of life.
She doesn't know.
And I'm not entirely sure it's a bad thing. Or even a good thing.
She's travelling a different path.
