Today I was sitting at work, staring absently at the old family photo on my desk, and realized that I am shaped exactly like my dear Grand-mere, may she rest in peace. In the photo, we are sitting in almost identical poses, with one hand resting gently atop the other — perhaps because the photographer placed us that way, I do not recall — and even the fat between our wrists and elbows are in the same places, in the same amounts. We are just about the same height, and have near-identical figures.
Grand-mere was no beauty queen, but she was a strong woman, and an intelligent woman, and a she used to sing me to sleep, and she used to make me delicious crepes every time I came to visit, and I loved her. She died about a year and a half ago, and my eyes mist, still, whenever I think of her, because I miss her so.
One could do worse, than to look like my Grand-mere.