In my eyes, he once must have seen himself. ..and in my he forcefully tries to correct his mis-steps. The older I get, the more of his idiosyncracies become apparent in me. I remember when as a teen, I had sworn never to become like my father. However, nature is inescapable while nurture is only the subterfuge which refines nature. Today, lost in meandering thoughts, I had to catch myself from thinking how much like my father I have become - in looks, in life and "love?" No, it seems that the only place where nurture has stepped in has been in love.
How I wish I were like my father in love...but did he ever really feel fulfilled in love or was his union with my mother one of Africa's post-independence arrangements. Yes, it was love, because in a time when people seldom married across tribes, they did. So who would blame me for pondering the union on my "culture" to another? It would only be the post-global projection of my belief in the power of destiny in bringing loving hearts together. So how different am I from my father again? We may actually belong to the same side of a coin - heads!!
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