My mother’s daughter

I am. For a long time I didn’t want to be, couldn’t believe I was but I am. I turn more into my mother’s daughter every day it seems. I fought her music; it’s mine now. I play her card games, her board games. I watch her television shows. I call her on nearly a daily basis and even though she may not understand, she listens to my problems big and small. I laugh at her expense and she at mine. I am selfish, in part, because she was. I am a product of her and I can accept that now, maybe even embrace it.