Boots to Fill

I think I'm turning into my mother.

Wow. I never thought those words would come out of my mouth. 

I remember that as a sloppily dressed, messy and quirky ten year old, I vowed to never be exactly like my mother, to never take naps, a to never like guacamole, and to never, ever, fall asleep during the opening credits of a movie. Famous. Last. Words.

My experience of being away at college has changed me. It started when I realized that I eat like my mom. Over the course of my mortal existence, my mom has become more and more of a health nut. The Early Days of Healthy Eating were rough (Pro Tip: don't put broccoli in smoothies), but over time, my mom became the master healthy eating chef she is today. Here at college, I found that I couldn't gain the (full) freshman fifteen because I couldn't escape the good habits I developed as teenager. My mom's voice was constantly reminding me to "go put some quinoa on your salad" or "do an egg white omelet instead," and I couldn't help but listen to these instructions. Turns out, I actually enjoy eating healthy and enjoy how healthy food makes me feel, both physically and mentally. I think I'm addicted. 

Speaking of addiction, I've also picked up my mom's love of running. We went and bought me new running clothes over Christmas break. My mother must've known that if anything could guilt me into exercising more, it would be her buying me new workout gear. So come second semester, I took to the road with my tunes and my track shoes and found that running relieved stress and boosted my self-confidence like nothing else could. 

I am also guilty of stealing my mom's fashion. I blame seven years of attending a uniformed elementary school for my disastrous fashion sense. I literally have no idea what matches, and I actually... kind of don't care. My mom is the one who does the shopping for jeans, new school clothes, new churches dresses, and even my senior prom wear. I have always been content with whatever she clothes me in. 

Sometimes, while at college, I catch little glimmers of my mom in everyday life. I hear something she says, like "fo what" or "baby doll", and I whip my head around to see her only to realize that those words came out of my mouth, not hers. Sometimes, I glance in the mirror and see her neatly plaited dutch braids and floral patterned dresses, but when I reach out to try and hug her, all I get is air. 

And sometimes, when I pull on my mom's pair of worn cowboy boots for church, I feel like I'm back in Bellflower, getting ready for 9:00 church, just like every Sunday. I think back to when I was a little kid and I vowed to never turn out like my mother, and I just laugh at my naivety. Looks like I'm bound to end up being just like her. My perspective now, however, has changed; I actually want people to see me and say, wow, you're just like your mom. You sound the same, act the same; same mannerism, same smile, same Basso party genes. And, oh, are those her cowboy boots that you're wearing? 

And I want to smile and say, yeah. It's some big boots to fill.