A reflection on a cold late winter night.
When I look at my mother these days, I see the smile that once belonged to my grandmother, because my mother is now the same age my grandmother was when I was a child. I also see my grandfather's expressions and walk.
When I look at my father, I see my grandfather's chin and neck, but my grandmother's expression and posture.
When I look in the mirror, I see a bit of all of them, and although time passes, marking my face, graying my beard and hair, and aging my skin, I know it will make me look more and more like them. And this makes the inevitable passage of time feel a little sweeter.