Twenty eight years ago there was this:
This is me and my first born. It’s not Jackie, but it’s my firstborn. I was six weeks shy of being 22 years old.
This is Jackie with her first born. She is 26. Before you go thinking that history is about to repeat itself, rest assured. When I told Jackie that I was exactly like her at that age, she responded with, “I know that, Mother, and it’s in the back of my head with every choice I make.”
I look at her family and I see ME when I was a young married woman. Jackie was smarter and waited until she was finished with school before settling down and starting a family, and I believe that she really, truly knows what she wants out of life. So I’m hopeful that she will avoid some of the heartache that I went through. But holy hell. I can’t look at her and her husband without seeing me and her dad all those years ago. It’s a weird place to be.