A Likeness
Wednesday, October 8, 2008 by Tracey Clark 
On a shelf in our living room is a small stack of old family photos we just found. On top is a school photo of my husband. He looks about 6. When a friend stopped over the other day, the picture caught her eye. She held it up and covered part of the photo with her hand. What remained revealed an incredible resemblance to my oldest daughter. I was shocked I hadn’t noticed. Looking at the whole photo and seeing the big picture didn’t make the similarities obvious but looking at the smaller part, the little detail, it...he looked just like her.
When I shot this self-portrait I recognized my tom-boy side —comfortable in my soft cotton and denim ‘uniform’. I saw myself in my bathroom mirror, as I do every morning, getting ready to start the daily routine. What I didn’t see was my father. Until I took the detail above. And then, all at once, in one thumb nail, I saw him. Undeniably. I’ve known I have my father’s hands for years now but it’s one of those things I forget about.
I’ll admit I have often complained about having masculine hands—my dad’s hands—but this time when I saw a glimpse of my father in myself, it made me happy. And incredibly proud. His hands are big and can still make mine feel small. They are incredibly strong. And even amidst the cracks and calluses from years of hard work, the are soft, tender and loving. I can only hope that having my father’s hands means having all of the other wonderful things that they hold.
Have you ever seen someone or something in yourself that stopped you in your tracks? Something you’ve known all along or maybe a pleasant surprise? Give us a glimpse, won't you?
Reader Comments (22)
then just recently, my dad was standing in my kitchen with his hands on the counter, when i saw his hands as if for the first time! he has my fingers... no, i have his fingers (mine are just longer and skinnier, but otherwise identical, right down to the shape of our fingernails)! isn't such a discovery awesome!
im one of them after all!
...so after all that! i too hope that i can have all the wonderful things my fathers hands hold... he has always been my hero! sj
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mackvilleroad/2600121997/in/set-72157604408686078/
for me it's always been hands. when my son was a minute old everyone knew he looked just like my dad in the eyes. and now all i hear is how he is a miniature figure of his father. i see all that, but i also see more than that.
i see his hands. and again my dad. and again me. the first time i noticed it i nearly cried. how could it be in someone so small? it's the way he moves his hands when he's talking, the way his finger curls around his cuticle out of habit when he's in thought. i remember being a teenager and realizing i did this, the same as my dad. and it was fascinating to me. now it brings me much peace to see this carry through from him to me to my own son.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/camerashymomma/2310479655/
It didn't take long and I was sitting in my uncle's home looking at pictures of people I had never met, but who looked like me. I had the family nose. This was incredible to me, but the kicker came many months later when I finally met June (the woman who gave me birth). She wanted to look at my feet.
June was excited to find the mole on the bottom of my right foot. She shared her memory of seeing the same mole on her mom's right foot, and discovering it on her own foot when she was a teen. Now here it was on me.
My mole is a reminder that I"m a part of a bigger picture. I do look like someone and I belong.
In this picture, my upper lip is that of my father. His is covered by a wiry mustache, and I can remember how it looked the one time he shaved it off. I am my father's daughter. From our lips to our stubbornness. I wish he could see that. We'd be talking right now if he did. :(
ps. I don't know whose hands they are, but I call mine Manhands.
http://flickr.com/photos/blazeyphotography/2924498407/
What I love is when people comment on how one of our younger three sons looks like me or their dad or another family member...they are gifts of adoption. :)
In an entirely different way the following photo stopped me in my tracks. I spent 15 years in an unhappy & controlling marriage, and was only freed 2 years ago. Two months ago, I finally married my soulmate; a couple of weeks ago, I took my camera out to the hammock where he and I went to decompress one evening and started snapping away - at the trees, at the fence, our feet...us. When I uploaded this photo, I could have cried to see the contentment on my face. I am finally, finally Happy. And Safe:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/cartwheelsatmidnight/2884039260/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/juliealvarez/2785271365/
And my daughter has her own dad's hands:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/juliealvarez/2916698235/
saw your photo and thought of this story that was written awhile ago, entitled 'My Father's Hands' :)
http://cjoshoot.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-toes-are-his-toes.html
http://cjoshoot.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-toes-are-his-toes.html
Love, Dad