I wonder how many daughters say they don’t want to become their mother. And then one day we realize we just heard her words come out of our mouth. And we just laughed or danced the way she does. Or complained about the same thing. Or raved about something she loves just the way she does. Or looked in the mirror and saw a younger version. Or even worse, a carbon copy. It must be inevitable. At some point some part of you becomes your mother. Deal with it. Or maybe your mother became you. Maybe she just looked in the mirror or at one of your pictures and thought, I just became my daughter, And guess what, she probably won’t complain about it. So there. Revenge of the mother. Sarcasm? Where?